Fortune Favours The Brave
by Silver Orbed Lioness
Summary: A new evil is threatening the Wizarding World. Ancient, Corrupt and does not care WHAT type of blood the magical person holds in their veins; this evil murders indiscriminately. Hermione Granger discovers she has a connection to this evil. One that could threaten her tenuous friendship with Draco but, more importantly, a burgeoning romance with his father - Lucius Malfoy.
1. Finding A Purpose

_JKR Invented the world occupied by Harry and his friends. Enemies. Family._ _ **No profit** is being made by my writing this._

 **Fortune Favours the Brave**

 **Finding A Purpose**

 **H** **er** father always said that life was not fair! Too damn right it wasn't. Dejectedly she walked out of the courthouse. Sluggishly, she took one step at a time. Doom bells thudded with each descent towards the pavement. Halfway down she stopped, turned and caught a glimpse of her former husband. Unashamedly he walked off with a woman half his age. She had given the best years of her life. Sacrificed such a lot for him. Shock rippled through her heart when she discovered her husband had been sleeping with someone else. Not just any someone else but her Nanny! It was such a cliché. How could he do this?

Yes, she had been working harder than usual. She _had_ to live in libraries and museums. No, she could not always provide sexually but that was due to her mental and physical exhaustion from all the research she had to do. Apparating was not always an option so she had to travel muggle routes on trains and buses. There had been the odd trip abroad where she had to take herself off suddenly. On an aircraft. Stuck behind the loud mouths. The errant children who made her inner Snape burn. Arrogant people who tilted their chairs back right at the moment she was about to drink a bloody hot cup of black coffee!

But she had remained faithful to him – almost to a fault. Good job their children were now regularly attending Hogwarts. More children, he had said once. Like that. In those exact words. More children! The more he said it the more it sounded like he was demanding it. That had been a source of disagreement amongst them for awhile. It was as if he only saw her as a breeding machine. No blame could be accrued to his parents. The father might have surrounded himself with children. Wisely he chose a wife who wanted to be a proud housewife. Rather crucially, also his mother wanted to surround herself with a litter of ginger haired children.

Though she loved her children she could not justify having more when she was too busy to look after the ones she did have. Wiping away an angry tear she was about to walk down the rest of the way when she heard her name being called out.

"Hermione!" it was her former sister in law. "Hermione, wait up."

"I would have thought you would have been with your brother."

"Why? I think he's an eejit!"

"You hang out with Seamus too often."

"I mean look at him with her?"

"You said the same thing about Bill and Fleur at one point."

"Bill and Fleur are different," Ginevra Potter said, "look – I still want to be friends."

"That is not going to be easy."

"No," Ginny shook her head. Dark red auburn hair shone in the bright autumnal light. Ginny was beautiful and, luckily for her; had a husband who still doted on her. "We will manage. I do not want to lose contact with you – there are too many memories we share … the basilisk, you figured that out … You told me to go out with any boy who asked so I did and I got Harry due to it. Come on, we can't part like this."

"What do your parents say?"

"Hermione, I am 41 years old. I do not have to worry about what my parents say!"

Ginny took Hermione's hand and squeezed it between hers. Tears welled up in Ginny's eyes. As they fell into a hug Harry showed up. Anger shone in his bright green eyes. In an effort to calm him down Harry rubbed his wife's back. "What can I say?" he said to his best friend. "Of all the people I would have thought that this would be Draco and Astoria!"

Shrugging her shoulders Hermione gazed at Harry: "Well," she sighed, "it was me it happened to."

Circling his arms around his wife and friend the trio stood on the steps of the courthouse comforting each other. "I do not even have full custody of the children," Hermione's muffled sobbing was just about heard by Harry. "I do not know how I am going to see them!"

"We will make sure they Owl you."

"That is not enough, though," Hermione left her friends embrace, "thank you for being here but I really need to be on my own."

"Are you sure that is wise?" Ginny asked, tucking some of Hermione's hair behind her ear.

Rolling her eyes Hermione just looked at her friend: "Please, I am beyond heartbroken now. I am not going to do anything stupid."

Harry glared at Ron who seemed to know his old friend was looking at him. Slowly, Ron turned his head and gazed back at Harry, Ginny and his ex-wife. Knowing he was cast off from Harry for ever this time Ron lowered his head and turned to his younger lover – looping her arm through his she flashed a smile at him.

"Instead of killing myself I am more inclined to kill them!" Hermione growled.

Shocked Harry turned around and saw that Hermione half meant her statement. The way she glared at the couple sent cold shivers down his spine. That was the way Snape used to look at him.

"Come on," Ginny sighed, steering Hermione around. Feeling like she was in a Potter sandwich Hermione allowed Harry and Ginny to walk her down the rest of the steps. Spotting somewhere suitable to apparate the trio walked around the corner where Hermione looked at them. "You know where I really want to go?"

"No?" Harry said.

"Diagon Alley."

Smiling Ginny and Harry nodded. "Diagon Alley," Ginny said. "Why do you want to go there?"

"I want to remember the good times," Hermione sighed. "The first few years of school before it all became sour. Before emotions like this became apparent."

"Before we had to grow up in other words?" Harry sighed wrapping an arm around Hermione's shoulders and another around his wife's waist.

"Yes."

"Are you certain?"

"Well I have to go somewhere and I do not want to go home."

"We will come with you," Ginny said stroking Hermione's hand, "let us go!"

Smiling, all three walked around an alley separating the courthouse from an office block. As one they apparated from there to Diagon Alley.

Lowering the paper the next morning Draco looked across his breakfast table at his beautiful wife: "I always knew that Weasel was pathetic!" he said.

"You have grown to like her then?"

"Oh of course I have," Draco picked his fine china tea cup and sipped it quietly keeping his eyes on his wife. "I would never do such a thing to you, my dear."

"I should hope not," Astoria Malfoy smiled delicately picking at her croissant, "I would Crucio your sorry little hide before you could blink if you did."

"Have I told you how much I love you today?" Draco smirked.

"Do you think we should offer a hand of friendship to Hermione?"

Opening his mouth to reply Draco's line of conversation was interrupted by the sound of their Breakfast Room door opening with a menacing creak. Concern flitted across Draco's face when he watched his father walk slowly into the room. It was not fair, Draco sighed. Lucius was in his sixties and he still looked thirty!

Going straight towards the buffet Lucius Malfoy held a plate with little enthusiasm. Eating now only to carry on a lonely existence. Yes; he had a son, a daughter in law and a lovely if irritating grandson. Without a woman to share it all with, Lucius felt as if he may as well live on a deserted isle. Mechanically, Lucius helped himself to some scrambled eggs, two slices of toast and a cup of coffee. Black. Rich. Intense coffee.

"So," his father spoke. Merlin's teeth; Draco sighed, this guy says hello I want to drown in a pool of vat! "What is the morning gossip?" Lucius asked. Flicking his dark blue cloak aside to sit down between his son and the woman lucky enough to be a Malfoy. "Anything entirely useless happening?"

"The Granger-Weasley divorce has been finalised," Draco said cutting into a rasher of bacon. "We were wondering if we should offer a hand of friendship to the former Mrs Weasley?"

A little wiser in his old age Lucius tilted his head. "Why not?" he sighed. "Those prejudices are long since behind us," here he took a forkful of egg and swallowed it without chewing. "Besides, Wizard Law dictates she was the wronged one; therefore we are not to be deficient in our sympathy towards Miss Granger."

There were a few tell tale signs of age behind his father's eyes. Some crows feet on the eyes. Other than that though Lucius Malfoy was still very much in his prime. Draco knew his father was lonely since his mother's untimely death. Many bad things have been said about his parents. Most of which were true. One unfair rumour spread; Draco sighed, some had said his parents were an arranged marriage secretly detesting each other. When a very young boy Draco could see how much his parents loved each other. Though his father neglected him at times, he was nothing but the perfect husband for his mother.

"Shall we then Owl her our deepest condolences and maybe invite her here to stay if she needs to."

"I do not think that is necessary," Lucius sighed, "just Owl her your condolences. I believe she has plenty of friends to help her through this difficult time."

Taking the final sip of his tea Draco picked up the newspaper, closed it and folded it neatly in half. Laying it on the table Draco skimmed it across to his wife. "I do not wish to read the newspaper today," Astoria said. "Besides, I got a girls day out."

"With whom?"

"Fleur and Ginny," she said. "Maybe I can come home with the real inside news!"

"I was not aware you were close friends with those two?" Lucius said, shifting in his seat. Sometimes he did feel a little guilty over what he did to Ginny as a child. Not guilty enough to apologise to her in person but whenever he saw her his conscience twinged him – painfully! "How – how did that come about?"

It was as if he had finally stepped out of his mourning bubble and saw the world for the first time in that moment. Lucius glanced into his daughter in law's intelligent eyes: "They have been friends for years, father," Draco sighed. "We have talked about them, you know!"

"I would have thought you would not have been friends with those two that is all," shrugged Lucius now paying more attention to his plate than to any of the humans in the room.

Placing her hands together using them as a shelf for her chin, Astoria Malfoy stared at Lucius wondering where he'd been all this time? "Why not?" she said nonchalantly, "Fleur has excellent taste in clothing. Practically half my wardrobe is based on her advice," Lucius arched an eyebrow. "I rely on her for everything fashion related."

"That is understandable," Lucius sighed, "though what use is Mrs Potter?"

"I love you, Lucius," Astoria sighed rolling her eyes with exasperation. Men were dense, "but you can be a little behind the times," resting her cheek on her conjoined hands she rolled her eyes at her father-in-law. Smirking delightfully. At times she adored teasing Lucius. "Ginevra Potter is famous in her own right. We get to go in to exclusive places due to her fame. Not only is she married to the great Harry Potter," Draco snorted sarcastically, it was like he was 13 all over again at that point. "But she was an excellent sportswoman. Ginny and Fleur's connections are extremely powerful."

Pensively, Lucius appraised his daughter-in-law's features. So beautiful. Shame there was no granddaughter bearing her features. That was his fault though. In some ways, Arthur Weasley contributed more to Purity than he did by having that brood: "It is better to get a story from the people in the know," Lucius bowed his head deferentially to his son's wife. "The papers _can_ exaggerate with horrific consequences."

Twinkling eyes, Astoria tilted her head in reply. A sly smile offered her all the regal air of a Malfoy as she rose elegantly from her seat. Swaying around the table Mrs Malfoy enjoyed teasing her husband with her shapely hips. Surprising her, Draco reached out and grabbed her hand. "Have fun, dear," he kissed the back of her fingers gazing at her with dark eyes. Sending shivers of excitement down her spine. "Spending my fortune!"

" _Half_ your fortune, dearest," his wife replied coolly. "I have my own account too, remember?"

With that his wife apparated out of the breakfast chamber. Chuckling with delight at his wife's smooth disappearance Draco turned back to Lucius: "What are your plans for the day, father?"

"There is not much call for me nowadays," Lucius sighed finishing his own breakfast fairly quickly, "so I suppose I shall lounge by the pool and read."

"You really have to find something to live for father," Draco advised. "Normally I would not say anything like this to you but it has been 3 years."

"I know, son!" Lucius snapped. He barely tolerated advice at the best of times. Least of all from his own offspring.

"I miss my mother too," Draco's throat caught the tears threatening to weaken his Slytherin sensibilities. "I know she would want you to find a purpose in life once more. You are not derelict..."

"Derelict? Thanks, son!"

"You know I did not mean it like that."

"Yes well, James and Lily were bloody lucky," Lucius snorted, "they died together!"

"I would not want that, father," Draco turned his attention to his wedding ring and looked at his father's empty hand. The beginning of this year Draco saw; through a crack in the door, his father remove the wedding band and place it in a silver, emerald studded box. Clicking the complicated clasp in the form of ouroboros around the catch. Draco never asked why, just accepted his father's decision. "When mother died I understood some of Harry's pain."

That was also a strange development. In the past ten years or so Draco and Harry had started using each other's given names – like they suddenly realised they were not children any more and a lot of water had passed between the bridges of their youth to their oncoming middle aged selves. They were a long way from becoming best friends but there was a respect there that was sorely needed during their youth.

"If I could travel that far back in time I probably would have told the younger me to consider some choices with extreme caution."

"You never owned up to being a true Death Eater," Draco sighed. "Why do so now?"

"Do you think I would be put in Azkaban if I did confess that I was lying?"

"What good would it do?" Draco sighed, "it would not bring either mother or Professor Snape back."

"You know I still miss Snape?"

"The two of you were unlikely best friends, I will admit," Draco sighed standing up. Making sure his tunic was straight with no stains on. Hooking his middle finger over his long dark green velvet frock coat that was hanging on the back of his chair. Draco slung it suavely over his shoulder, "but I think you more like brothers."

"Your mother and I were instrumental in making sure that HE forgave Snape. Due to that I believe we could be considered heroes," Lucius sighed. "Especially as it transpired that he was working against us and saved Young Potter."

"Father," Draco sighed again rolling his eyes, "Harry and I are the same age. You cannot call him ' _Young Potter_ ' any more!"

"I still consider you young, Draco," Lucius smiled. Those blue eyes still sparkled with devastatingly ice cold charm. "Therefore he is young also."

"Whatever, father," Draco waved his free hand dismissively. "I have to go; the Hogwart's Parent's board meeting is today. Harry may also provide me with some information."

"Be careful or you two will also end up being unlikely best friends!"

"If Harry has any sense of propriety he would realise that now I was always the better Wizard!"

Nice to see some of that famous Malfoy smugness he had instilled in his son, Lucius thought. Now he was all alone. Quiet. If there was one thing he hated was a deafening silence. Lucius sat back in his seat wondering what the hell he could do alone in this big mansion. Not even a grandchild to play with. Since when had he become broody? With a heavy sigh Lucius picked up this issue of the Daily Prophet and took it to his sitting room. Where an obliging House Elf had prepared a small fire offering a golden warm glow in the otherwise dark room. Is this what I have been reduced to, he sighed, sitting in a leather chair by a fire reading teen gossip?

Putting his feet up Lucius opened the pages to where the story was pointed to on the front page: "SHOCK DIVORCE!" the headline practically gave Lucius a headache, " _Yesterday, it has been confirmed that Hermione Jean Granger formerly Mrs Ronald Weasley; has successfully divorced her disgraced husband whom – it is said – she found in their marriage bed in flagrante with a woman barely out of school. It seems this was one of many indiscretions he had with their 23 year old Nanny. A Hufflepuff witch by the name of Emilia Waters. A willowy brunette who had been looking after the couples children whilst they were busy working. Ms Granger's hard working schedule meant that Ronald was often found bereft and sought comfort in the arms of Miss Waters._ "

What utter tripe, Lucius rolled his eyes. Despite how he felt about this sort of non news he read on: The further he read the more he felt abhorrent towards this little Weasel. Poor heartbroken Miss (Ms made him want to tear his eyes out. Miss was so much more elegant!) Granger... No one had the right to betray their spouse. A Slytherin would know better. " _The couple has two children. Taking a minimalist approach to breeding. It has been stated by a reliable source that Ms (Miss, Lucius read aloud as if it silenced the printed text) Granger often complained that her husband wanted her to be more like his mother. A stay at home mother of several children._ "

Several? Lucius snorted, that family were half the Wizarding world: Why should Miss Granger be like Molly? If that dolt, Ronald wanted to be like his father perhaps he should have married someone more insipid. Not that Molly was that at all. The way she killed Bellatrix made him wonder what kind of Death Eater she would have made. " _Ms (Miss, Lucius gritted his teeth!) Granger was seen being consoled by her life time best friend; the former hero and saviour of our world Harry Potter and his still stunning gorgeous wife Ginevra the sister of the adulterous husband._ "

Well that was ten minutes of his life he was not going to get back. As he began folding the paper and thinking of using it as fodder for the fire he caught a picture snapped of Hermione Granger. Not bad. Slightly filled out and in all the right places. The hair had long since been tamed since she could afford to go to a proper Witching Hairdressers to have her wild locks tended to properly. Quite generously proportioned in fact. Not fat though. No, she would look gorgeous with the right clothing. With the right husband…

Picking up his wand Lucius used a cutting spell guiding the wand carefully around the edges. Sitting there watching her gaze at her former husband with sadness and regret. Lucius' mind was made up. He realised he should have encouraged his son with this Muggleborn. There were the odd few Muggleborns that were Death Eaters. Lower ranking, but they were still Death Eaters. Those were the ones that got particularly despised and punished. If they ended up in Azkaban then no one would help them! After all, look how Sirius Black was treated when it was thought he was the one who betrayed Harry's parents?

Lucius growled as he caught a small addendum to the article he almost missed: " _It has been said that the couple will share custody of their two children._ " Shared? Who was the bloody Judge? How could a court justify offering that deal to a wronged woman? Miss Granger was the innocent in all this. She deserved full custody. Why does the home-wrecking vacuous bitch get to see the children at all?

Hating to admit that his son was right, Lucius rolled his eyes. He did need a purpose in life. Narcissa was the greatest love of his life. Would he not want the same for Narcissa if the situation were reversed? Though she would have just joined in the capricious crowd Astoria was rather enamoured with. Somehow the idea of Narcissa being best friends with Hermione turned him on a little. That was the first time he had felt that happen for awhile. It must be the sad gaze in Hermione's forlorn and lonely eyes. Flashing back and forth through the photograph. Puppy eyed; wondering what she could have done to have stopped this from happening. You did everything right, my dear, Lucius sighed. I will fight your corner but you have to do something for me. Your words will hold weight to what I have in mind.

How you can enrich the life of many a Wizard, Lucius sighed. A better husband is all you need. One who understands ambitions beyond parenthood. I recall some teenage romance between you and the then greatest Quidditch player of the day, Viktor Krum. Then again, he sighed still gazing at the picture, I suppose he had the intelligence of a brick.

How could he be so stupid as to not think of it before? This story had been running for months. Why had he not been there offering her comfort? If he had the next page would be all on Hermione with his arm around her lovely waist and not on that stupid ginger idiot with his mistress. Immediately, Lucius stood up and looked at what he was wearing. No, this would not do at all. In a way this was the perfect revenge against Arthur Weasley.

Already he imagined the look on that dolt's face when the newspapers started emblazoning pictures of him and Hermione together. Smiling a little Lucius gazed back down at the picture in his hand. Lachrymose in demeanour, he sighed, poor dear Miss Granger. Melancholic sadness in her eyes resonated deeply within Lucius' slippery heart.

In some scant way Lucius genuinely felt sympathy towards her. At least he had a fairly happy marriage. HIM aside! No one could accuse the other of betraying their marriage. Rumour mills ground the seeds of doubt that blew on the scandalous winds of spite accusing the couple of all sorts of injurious acts that would have not occurred to either of them. It was one courthouse after another as they fought off all the lawsuits grieving Wizards and Witches could throw at them. Showing how the supposed good can conjure darker acts in their minds than the so-called darker personalities in the world. In spite of all this though, the following ten years of the aftermath of the war were the happiest in their marriage. All the darkness and shadows in their souls and hearts had disappeared by the demise of the Dark Lord and his, quite frankly, nutty sister in law – Bellatrix.

Everyone seemed to relax – Draco's marriage and Scorpius had given them a little light in the dark.

Then Narcissa died!

Now he was staring into the face of a woman who has died inside. A strong woman. A bright woman. One who would have done some good towards the Malfoy name if he, Lucius, were not so blindly prejudiced and sucked into what he now realised was idiotic nonsense. How could he have been so moronically naïve? Now, he sighed as he glared at the mirror above the mantle piece. Are you a Slytherin or not?

A tiny motion above his right eye offered the cynical arch. A twist at the corners of the mouth gave him that same air – suddenly he felt the years drop from his shoulders. Standing straight, sucking in what he imagined to be a slight paunch. So she is my son's age, he thought, but I do not look that much different to how I did when I was _their_ age. I could easily pass as Draco's older brother.

Satisfied after his self-appraisal Lucius walked out of the sitting room taking the picture with him to his bedroom where he proceeded to make himself look absolutely irresistible.

Then he Owled all the relevant people to gather all the information he could. When he went to see her he had to prove his statement. Most of the information arrived back within a few hours. When Lucius set his mind to something – he pursued it with such tenacity one might almost accuse him of being a Gryffindor.

Another day had passed. Trying to keep occupied Hermione sat behind her desk in her admittedly spacious office. The smell of cedar wood relaxed her. Fondly, she gazed at the picture of her children. Both winking and playing bringing a poignant smile to her face. Tenderly she touched the cheek of one and sighed so hard that tears fell down her face.

"Hello Hermione," startled at the sound of her name she dropped the picture, "If I _can_ call you Hermione?"

"It is better than what you used to call me."

"Ouch!"

"What is it do you want, Draco?"

"Nothing," Draco walked in and sat on a sofa set against the wall, "I just wondered if you were okay?"

"Since when have you been worried about me?"

"My wife is friends with you," Draco said, "so she has led me to believe."

"Yes, but _we,"_ she flickered a finger between them, _"_ are not friends."

Laughter threatened to overcome Draco as his eyes sparkled with mischief. Hermione understood now why she had a slight crush on him at school. Though she dared not admit that now. "We are not enemies either," he pointed out.

Shaking her head, Hermione smiled and laughed a little: "All right," she sighed, "I am ... _coping_."

Draco winced. "I hate that word," he sighed. "It is the word my father used on a daily basis when my mother died."

"I am still sorry about that," Hermione said.

"It was not your fault," Draco said furrowing his brow. "Why do you apologise?"

"A reflex." Hermione sighed. "Do you still hate Ron?"

"What little respect I had for him evaporated quickly after his unforgivable actions. Very few of us divorce, you know."

Hermione turned her head away and stared out of her magically enhanced view of the Forest of Dean. A small patch of woods carpeted in blue bells. Near a quaint little village called Parkend. A place of happiness. "I wish Ron was dead," she muttered.

Heartily, Draco laughed chucking his head back to the ceiling: "Oh if I heard that thirty years ago I would have felt Christmas had come."

"I did say it thirty years ago."

"Now you almost mean it," Draco's eyes shone wickedly, playfully gleaming in the pupils. "I came here to offer my condolences. I just cannot believe he would be capable of such a heinous act. I thought you two were one of those together forever marriages."

"Yeah well," Hermione sighed abandoning her usual proper rhetoric, "the Nanny was there more than I was. Plus," Hermione tucked a rather errant curly lock of hair behind her ear. "She is prettier than I ever was!"

"Now we know that is not true," another voice said in the doorway. Draco was stunned to see his father stand there in all his youthful magnificence. Phoenix like Lucius was back in his expensive glory. Even his voice returned to that special silkiness he held twenty years ago. "I Owled various people for all the sordid details, may we talk alone?"

Once Lucius said he wished to talk alone with someone Draco reverted back to the age of 10 inside his heart. Slightly cowed he got up and left. Dumbstruck, Hermione glared at Lucius. Draco did not even give Hermione the chance to speak. If she could Hermione would have snapped out: Whatever it is you want to say you can discuss this with Draco in the room. She had forgotten how the dynamic between father and son worked within the Malfoy clan.

Once they were alone Lucius slunk into her quite grand office with all the same arrogance she recalled him doing so when she was younger. Though did she see a hint of approval in his eyes? "Why … why are you here?" she stammered.

The Slytherin in him could not help but note that Hermione's knuckles were turning into small white grapes, clutching tightly onto her tasteful desk. Still afraid? "I believe there is no need for you to fear me now," he smirked. Well, it is good to know I still have that affect on people. "Believe it or not I realise how foolish I was as a young boy when I … well, you know the history."

"Yes, I lived some of it, remember."

"So you did," Lucius agreed sitting on the sofa just the way his son did moments before. "As I was saying," he tilted his head smirking, "I Owled for references from your court case. The history of your unfortunate divorce consumed my entire day yesterday," she opened her mouth wide. Why would Lucius Malfoy bother about her screwed up life? "I feel there is a way you can get full custody of your children."

"Why would you help me?" Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Only now did Lucius see what was so special about her. "I am nothing but a _Mudblood_ remember?"

Physically, Lucius recoiled at the word: "I do not use that term now," he muttered quietly, "I have changed," Hermione rolled her eyes. Deep down she wished she could believe that. The romance of redemption in someone like Lucius was something she used to believe could happen. "I wish to help you because …" Lucius sighed gazing at the woman behind the desk. Better looking now. Held herself with much more determination. Truly she personified the spirit of Gryffindor with a hint of Ravenclaw about her. If only she were a Slytherin. There were qualities in her that would have held her in great stead as a Slytherin. "One: I still have a few scores to settle with the Weasley family," Hermione sat back in her chair; arms folded, matching Lucius for cynically arched eyebrows, "I realise that you still care for them," he said quickly. "Arthur Weasley at least."

"I adore Arthur."

"Naturally you would but I could transfer the vendetta onto his only worthless rat of a son!"

Was she going to let him speak about her … yes, she damn well was! "Keep talking."

"Two:" Hermione had leant forward showing a tease of cleavage. "I am sneaky, and sly."

"I never thought we could agree on anything!"

Oh, to hear that old sarcasm in her voice. The one she used to use in front of her son. So much more alluring now as a woman of considerable feminine charm. The smirk spread across Lucius face. The further her eyebrow arched up, the more he wished he could take her in his arms then and there. Slowly does it Lucius. You need to get her on side first then playtime can begin. "Naturally suspicious," he sighed, finishing his point. "I can twist stories to make them the way I wish them to end," now he had hooked her, time to reel her in. "Thirdly;" he smiled also leaning forward where a shaft of light graced his ice blue eyes. It was only now Hermione realised she had been holding in her breath: "I need to feel like a Slytherin again."

"Just without the inverted racism?" Hermione said. Merlin's beard, since when had she thought Lucius voice was sexy? "All right," she rose up from her dark red leather studded chair. Gold leaves decorated the dark wood adding the detail it needed to stand out against the other seats. Business like, she stepped around her own desk. Neatly perching on the edge opposite Lucius who gazed up at her form. Dazed that the idiot Weasel could even consider betraying such a strong and glorious woman. Leaning down with her arms folded. "Firstly;" her no nonsense voice was exciting Lucius pragmatically cunning mind and other things as well: "You _personally_ apologise to Ginny for what you put her through on her first year at Hogwarts, it is not her you have a vendetta against."

Mesmerized Lucius stood up keeping his gaze on her serious eyes, his action caused Hermione to straighten her back up. Though her arms still folded underneath her perfectly ample breasts. The cleavage was where his hooded eyes rested. Imagining what it would be like to stroke them with his leather gloved hand. "Excuse me," Hermione said sternly.

"What?"

"I think you will find my eyes are distinctly north from there!"

Shaking his head Lucius reluctantly allowed his gaze to travel further up to her face and her juicy succulent lips. "I apologise, my dear."

"Secondly;" Hermione brought the conversation back to the start, "I would not expect you to be anything but sly, suspicious and twisted but you do it my way. Gryffindor's are not without their own brand of cunning you know. You _can_ be sneaky _and_ honest at the same time." Was there a fire in the room. Hermione found herself gasping a little due to lack of cool air. Toe to toe they stood. One false move and they would be found in a compromising position by any person who decided to interrupt them.

Now his eyes were looking into hers she wished she kept them where they were. Those ice blue eyes turned a rather magnificently sexy teal. "Thirdly, feeling like a Slytherin is not inducing me to take you on your offer," Lucius had opened his mouth to speak, she held a hand up to stop him from interrupting her train of thought. Still keeping an arm across her chest as a barrier to stop him getting nearer. "I am friends with Astoria," here she realised how close he was to her. What was she saying that was causing such stupor in him? "Also on good terms with Draco," her voice began to quaver as she risked a slow gaze into his admittedly beautiful eyes, "I accept your offer."

Gracefully, Lucius took hold of her hand that she used to silence him. Raised it to his lips tenderly stroking her fingers as he kissed the back of her hand. Rubbing her hand as he spoke. "I agree to your terms on one last little condition." Lucius Malfoy could not resist one more appendix.

"Hmm," Hermione mumbled sceptically. All her old Gryffindor sensibilities slipped back into place warning her not to trust this last statement, considering the man who spoke it. Though she realised that to work with someone on this it had to be a person whom she could not trust. Law was a tricky maze to negotiate. Friends were wonderful for comfort. In a deal like this one needed a corkscrew mind, a poisonous heart and a distrusting disposition. Slytherin's had their uses: "Depends on what it is?"

Did the man never stop smirking? Hermione sighed with irritation. Lucius leaned over. So close to her she felt his breath on her face as he whispered: "You defend my person. Take the invisible chains off my feet. Acquire me a Full Pardon!"

"I scratch your back and you mine?" Hermione whispered back. A severely constricted throat threatened what remained of her sanity. "Yes?"

"Something like that," his voice sent shivers down her spine. "How about it, Miss Granger?"

Reluctantly Hermione turned her eyes to the right. Gazing at the bluebells. Not realising his eyes rested on her profile: "I may not succeed," she coughed. Where was water when she needed it? "You realise that, don't you?"

"Of course," Lucius murmured, "though if I win your battle for you. I expect you to put all that determination you had for thwarting the Dark Lord, for me. I do not foresee a failure on my part of the deal." Hermione was gasping for air as well as water. Why were her lungs and throat feeling like they were being squeezed by several tourniquets? "I also have absolute trust in you."

"I – I – I thought that Slytherin's did not trust anyone?"

"I may point out to you that neither my son or I cheated on our spouses. I realise I was a little too proud at one time but I loved Narcissa with all my heart, we are – after all – human, are we not?"

"The moment I sense you stabbing me in the back..."

"My dear, I would not dream of such a thing," Lucius sighed, "for I have an important treasure at stake here."

"What is that?" Hermione thought of a cursed jewel or something.

"My reputation."

Yes, Hermione sighed, that sounds right. Slytherin to the core! He would not stab her in the back when he still so desperately wanted a Pardon. They both held to gain from this deal. Neither could afford to bring old house politics into this.

"All right," Hermione sighed, "we have a deal."

Little did they know what they were letting themselves in for. Nor did either of them sense that another evil was slowly seeping its way into the Wizarding World … An evil that could, once again, threaten the entire Wizarding World with its oozing presence.

One that held no discriminations in their choice of who should live and who should die!


	2. A Slice of Humble Pie

**Fortune Favours the Brave**

 **A Slice Of Humble Pie**

 **G** **ods** is this what he had been degraded to? Standing outside the Potter's rather tasteful, seven bedroomed house. No mansion, he sighed, but not that rickety wreck Mrs Potter grew up in. Nice to feel that there were charms around the house. Sensible pair. Quite potent warding charms that would have taken him a good hour to crack – by then even he would have given up. He wondered who set them up? Suddenly, his mind went to that rather sumptuous Witch he had parted from hours ago. This just felt like her signature.

Slowly, he turned his head and watched as some muggle children walked past screaming and shouting – not one gave him a look. So the glamours extended that far? Briefly, Lucius wondered whose idea it was to be this cautious. Strongly, he suspected Mrs Potter working in cahoots with her then sister-in-law making sure no one would get so far as the front step. Both Witches not only would have looked beautiful in Slytherin colours but would also have made excellent Malfoy brides. Perhaps … no, he was changed man. Wickedly his eyes gleamed at the thought though. Ah, twenty years ago, he sighed. Imagine if it were … Not a good idea, he thought, twenty years ago he was rebuilding his life as well as all other surviving Death Eaters, punished to help rebuild Hogwarts. He ached now thinking about it. Plus, he was happily married to a highly volatile and jealous Witch.

Waiting made him uncomfortable. Shifting from foot to foot. Impatiently, Lucius began fiddling about with his garments. Particularly, a silk green cravat wrapped around his throat decorated with little silver snakes writhing around each other in their enchantment. Once he tended to that he made sure his mint green crushed velvet jacket was perfectly positioned. Allowing the black silk shirt to peak through. Pulling down on his cuffs making sure his serpentine cufflinks glittered with every hand gesture. Leaning on his famous cane, Lucius appraised his hands adorned with matching gloves to his shimmering grey trousers. One silver ring stood proudly on his right middle finger. Emerald green jewel that was fashioned into a dragons eye. Iridescent dragon hide shoes oozed all the darker shade of the rainbow playing with shadows and light. Rolling his eyes, Lucius flicked some hair out of his face. He had decided not to have it tied back, allowing the silver blonde locks to splay deliciously around his broad shoulders.

Annoyed that no one seemed to realise he was here Lucius stood tall, straight and elegant. Fixed his expression to one of old fashioned haughtiness. Confidently, Lucius raised his cane. Then something held him back. Not sure how welcome you would be? Of course you are not going to be welcome, he huffed. Momentarily, Lucius self doubt almost made him step away and go home. Subconsciously, Lucius left hand dropped to his side where he felt the slight rustle of paper against fabric. Hermione's (Miss Granger?) picture sat folded neatly in half against his thigh. Extra spurt of courage sprouted forth in his heart, remembering that he was a Malfoy. All Malfoys had a right to be where they wished to be. Straightening his back. Drawing himself to his full height. Using his cane he knocked, exerting not only his authority, but his power within each measured tap on the heavy wooded door.

The twilight was setting in the October sun. Being in, essentially the Winter house, he should welcome the oncoming season of snow and ice. Not that there were many of those these days. No one was answering. Well, he tried. Turning on his heel Lucius was about to walk away when light fell on him. Slowly, he turned back around where he found the need to shade his eyes from the dazzling light. Half-blinded Lucius almost staggered in the golden trail. Once he had recovered, the elder Slytherin lowered his arm from his eyes. Cautiously, he moved forward. Underneath the porch roof his vision stabilised somewhat and he realised whom it was that had answered. Face to face with Arthur Weasley. For the first time in years. Still gormless, Lucius sneered. Look at him with his mouth hanging open all the time. Whatever did Molly see in him?

Arthur glared at the man at his daughter's door. Still arrogant, he sighed. Still overdressed. Still sneering. "Mr Malfoy."

"Mr Weasley," Lucius sighed. Let it not end in a brawl. Please let this not be undignified.

"Who is it, dad?" If ears could blink Lucius' would have. That sounded just like Molly's voice.

"No one!" Arthur said.

"It is Mr Lucius Malfoy," Lucius sighed. No need for him to shout. He heard a clatter of dishes and a moment of silence, "May I enter your abode?"

"I'll get him to leave, shall I?" Arthur yelled giving Lucius a headache.

More awkward silence: "No," she sighed, "let him in!"

"I really don't..." her father began

"Good grief, dad," his daughter sounded like a woman he could respect. Cowed by his daughter's tone, Arthur scowled at Lucius. "The war is over. Let. Him. In!"

Smiling nastily at Arthur, Lucius walked through the door but found the oaf's hand on his chest: "You had better not be dispensing more dark items on my child, Lucius."

"For goodness sake, Arthur," Lucius removed Arthur's hand from his person and brushed where it had been with a little matching handkerchief to his cravat suavely whipped from inside his crushed luxurious velvet jacket. "That was a life time ago." Literally, Lucius thought with a nostalgic aged sigh. Children who were born that year had their own little tiny splatter of golden lights fluttering around their feet. "Tirelessly, my wife and I made sure all trinkets; _objets d'art_ , books of that nature were cleared away," rolling his eyes at Arthur's gormless expression. Refraining from muttering a curse worthy of a six year old offspring of a pair of Hufflepuffs, Lucius balefully glared at Arthur. "It took us _four_ years between all the accusations which we had thrown at us. Honestly, some leaped over the chasm of Absurdity." Still Arthur looked like a stoned codfish. "I believe you even insisted on overseeing some of it? (An aggravating six months Lucius wished not to relive!) Are you going senile in your old age?" Arthur needn't have age to make him senile, thought Lucius nastily. The man was born stupid. "I had my own _real_ reasons not to want it any more. Unlike before."

"I would still like to make sure," Arthur muttered.

"Oh _would_ you," sneered Lucius. Firmly, he laid the top of his cane on Arthur's still shabby cloak. Honestly, the man could smarten up a bit. Especially as his children were earning money; contributing to a decent amount each for their parents to have their own healthy account at Gringotts. He had seen Molly around and she looked practically radiant. What was Arthur wasting his annuity on? "All you need to do, _Arthur_ , is ask the Minister of Magic himself." Needing a distraction, Lucius peered down the hallway. A smattering of Muggle paintings sat side by side the majority of more superior Wizard landscapes. Enchanted flames ensconced along the coving. Mesmerizing, Lucius sighed. Fascinated by the slow gradation of variant hues of red; pinks and golds. Flickered against the pale lemon walls added that extra touch of welcoming warmth. Relaxing his shoulders, Lucius sighed. Nice to see that they embrace the magical light rather than that electricity nonsense he had heard about. "He was there throughout the tedious process. As," he sighed, "I have already pointed out, were you."

Lowering his gaze Arthur chewed his tongue inside his mouth: "You could have cursed Kingsley; you may even have done so to me for all I know."

Do not tempt me, growled Lucius, trying to control the Death Eater inside. "Well, if you feel up to it you can, of course, peruse my home. I can assure you it would certainly be wasting your time. Why do you not go home to your wonderful wife?"

Almost nose to nose they stood. Pressed flat against the wall with Lucius looking fit to jinx and her father glaring as disdainfully as he could back. Try harder, Lucius nostrils flared slightly. In a reflex action, Lucius flicked his tongue over his lips as if tasting the other man's fear. Snakes were said to taste all sorts of emotions through the air with their forked appendage. "You are about as threatening as a drunk flobberworm, Weasley," Lucius hissed. "I have more fear of your wife and daughter than I do of you."

Almost silently Ginny had walked out of the kitchen as she found her father, and still the richest Wizard in Great Britain, acting like babies. Rolling her eyes she coughed to let them know her presence. "Father, I thought I told you to let him in?" she scolded her dad whilst trying to untie her red; flour smothered apron. Clearly she felt little tasks like this could be done _Muggle Style_ , so he believed it was called nowadays, if Scorpius was to be believed. There may have even been a song about it, though Lucius was not quite certain about that.

Immediately, Lucius slunk up to the young woman and stood behind her. Smoothly brushing Ginny's hair aside with one hand whilst deftly untying the knot with the other. Proving that he, Lucius Malfoy, was not above the tiniest of menial tasks. Specifically ones that allowed him to get close to extraordinary examples of Purity as Mrs Potter most undoubtedly was.

Grinding his teeth Arthur's eyes narrowed: "You do realise she is a married woman."

Sharply, Lucius snapped his head back round to Arthur. Ice met sky as they battled another in a stubborn staring competition. With another cough to alert the men to her presence Lucius tilted his head to one side with a small, but charm filled smile. "I am sorry, Mrs Potter," silken tones reminded her of why she hated him but he just chuckled silently, "yours, I believe," he handed her the apron. Rolling her eyes, Mrs Ginevra Potter took it with grace. The Slytherin could tell she was keeping whatever retort she had in her head silenced. Chuckling, Lucius turned back to Arthur. "My intentions were entirely gallant towards your daughter, Arthur. Nothing would have _occurred_ to me until you mentioned it," with a cheeky wink Lucius was amused by Mrs Potter's little blush on the tops of her cheeks. Noting with a delicious sigh that she had raised a floured hand to her hair almost as if she was preening herself: "Also, do not lecture me on certain immoral acts," he continued as he was tempted to wipe her flour smudged face clean. Ah well, he supposed young Potter found that adorable. "It was never I that found myself on the front cover of the _Daily Prophet_ wrapped in the arms of some 23 year old Nymphomaniac Hufflepuff."

As Arthur was about to reply Harry apparated into the Hallway. "Honey I … oh, hello Arthur, what are you doing here?"

The young boy had grown into the man Lucius knew he would. Perhaps slightly wiser in the eyes. A touch more approachable. The man Potter shed his rather smart navy blue pinstripe robes revealing a smart casual approach to his work attire.

"Probably making sure none of his other children are being naughty behind his back," Lucius snorted.

Jumping Harry turned around and glared at the man before him. Yes he was on friendlier terms with Draco but that did not mean it had to extend to his father. "Mr Malfoy," Harry said coldly.

"For pities sake," Ginny rolled her eyes coming back from the kitchen. Cleansed hands and face still slightly damp. Little spritz of lily-of-the-valley perfume. Loosened hair definitely made Lucius catch his breath a little. No wonder Mr Harry Potter always looked like he had a hanger stuck in his mouth. "The bloody war is over. Treat Mr Malfoy with a modicum of civility, Harry."

"After..."

"Harry!" Mrs Potter snapped. Ah, married life, Lucius almost said aloud. "I said," young Mrs Potter emphasised through gritted teeth, "treat Mr Malfoy with all the civility he most assuredly deserves," out glaring her husband in a delightful display of power. Lucius could not help but feel a little lightening charge standing next to her. Such a strength behind those eyes. In that petite frame. No wonder Gryffindorian men were useless lumps. The women sapped the strength from them. In a way, Lucius respected the Lionesses of Gryffindor. No matter their lineage, which brought his thoughts back to that golden glory he had spoken with earlier. "May I remind you that his wife made sure you were kept alive," with this Lucius arched an eyebrow. "If Tom, (is that what she called him? For a moment Lucius glanced down at his feet), had discovered Mrs Malfoy was lying she would have been instantly killed. So," with exasperation Ginny threw her hands up in the air, "offer Mr Malfoy some respect. You named your son after Severus for crying out loud. If we..." here Mrs Potter stopped. "... Just please, I am tired... be the adults you are not the children you were."

Blinking at that Ravenclaw statement Lucius appreciated Mrs Potter a lot more. Perhaps he did have to eat the whole pie rather than just a slice. Also, Mrs Potter did seem as if she were about to say something else. Hmm, he chewed the inside of his cheek. Something she was not yet prepared to reveal to hall full of Wizards.

Shaking his head. Flicking his fringe aside: Harry slumped his shoulders. "Yes, dear," was his somewhat lazy response. "I was just shocked that was all." Smiling a little, Ginny leaned forward for Harry to peck her cheek. Lucius half expected to see the scar emblazoned across young Potter's forehead. Not even a mark remained. "Draco and I had a conversation in the halls of the Ministry," Harry said shrugging his coat off with Ginny's help.

"Well, now I know you're home – Harry," Arthur said glancing rather furtively at the door. "I will take myself out."

Immediately, Lucius observed, young Potter seemed to sense something wrong: "Arthur," Harry sighed.

"What?"

Tilting his head to the side Harry snapped his fingers and held his hand out: "Give it back."

Pretending innocence Arthur proved to be a terrible liar. "Give what back?"

"My phone," Harry said. "Give it back."

"But it's such a fascinating..."

"I promised to text my cousin," interrupted Harry, "now give it back!"

Reluctantly Arthur dug his hand back in his pockets. "Do I have..."

"Yes!"

Fed up with how childish Arthur was being Lucius took his wand out from his cane and muttered _Wingardium Leviosa_ perfectly directing the weird muggle contraption towards Harry where he reached up and grabbed it. "Goodnight!" Arthur said acting as if he had never taken the strange rectangular object. Knowing his latest attempt had failed Arthur apparated, rather messily, from the hallway. Did the man hold no graces whatsoever?

"You promised to lock it somewhere safe," Harry said to his wife.

"He's like a big baby," Ginny sighed, "You know how good he is with locks," Harry shook his head, "I do not have eyes in the back of my head."

"Ahem." Lucius coughed. "Not that I enjoy watching discord arise ..."

"Oh sorry, Mr Malfoy," Ginny said. "Would you like a cup of tea or perhaps something a little stronger?"

"Just tea would suffice."

"Harry, show our guest in properly, would you?"

Shoulders slowly slumped further down as Harry sighed: "This way," he pointed the way with a gentlemanly arm extension. Observing the various paintings, photographs, and knick knacks. Lucius was rather taken by a portrait. A muggle painting. The subject strongly reminded him of Hermione. "Mr Malfoy," Harry showed Lucius down their beautifully decorated, comfortable hall. In amongst all the winking, moving pictures Lucius rested his eyes on a family picture. Standing imperially with his hand on a chair stood a rather heavy set blond man. A sort of jumble of his son, Crabbe and Goyle in one lolloping lump of fat! Stiffly posed, a brunette of unforgiving aspect stood the other side just as staunchly. Sitting on the seat their daughter? Lucius had to tilt is head to make sure, sat all smug and looking like what the parents thought was an approximation of a Princess. They may as well be pigs, Lucius snorted.

"That is my cousin Dudley, his wife Hortensia and their child; Maud." _Maud_? Even he would never be so cruel as to saddle a girl with that name.

"I cannot help but see pigs," Lucius muttered brutally honest.

"Hagrid made a pigs tail sprout from my cousin's backside once," Harry said. Watching Lucius reaction with interest. "Said that is all what he needed."

"Really?" he arched a sophisticated eyebrow, "I have never thought I would like anything that halfbred Giant oaf would do," you really expect me to be nice, young Potter?

Arching his own eyebrow though not as suavely as Lucius could. Nor even as threateningly as Mrs Potter managed to. Harry stood at the door: "Lounge is this way."

Not that he expected anything grandiose but their withdrawing room was quite large. Spacious. Tastefully decorated in pastel green wallpaper with shimmering spirals of gold twisting and coiling, moving hypnotically between light and dark. The effect quite took Lucius breath away. Squashy, dark green (Greens? Lucius thought they would have festooned their house in tasteless bold reds!) velvet seats with round silk covered amber hued cushions used to act as extra comfort. Cosy, Lucius noted. Spoke of a couple who were quite happy about treating themselves to the odd nice thing now and again with no pang of guilt holding them back. Ones who were, he noted, proud of their magical heritage despite the odd Muggle piece sneaking out. Not even that awful muggle gadget he heard about … the one that stupefied non magical beings in senselessness all hours of the day.

Lucius hitched his trousers up and sat on a big: comforting, dragon hide blood red leather recliner chair. Nice shade, he approved. Suavely, he crossed his legs and laid his cane across the lap. Sitting opposite him on a two seater Lucius observed the older Harry Potter. So much different now to what he used to. More carefree. Less annoying definitely. Once he had accused the boy of turning out just like parents. It seemed that Lucius was wrong. There would be no incentive in the world that would make him sit in James Potter's company. At least he could exchange a somewhat civil word with Harry.

Obviously Mr Potter was uncomfortable at being scrutinized with such cold indifferent silence so he tried small talk. "How are things?"

"I am not a small talker," Lucius sighed.

Tersely Harry tried to justify his previous question. "Just trying to be polite."

"I am here for a purpose," Lucius said. "One I need your wife to be present in as it concerns her most of all." Narrowing his eyes Harry had watched the odd muggle period drama where someone like Lucius had designs on a woman like his wife. Sensing Potter's doubt, Lucius snorted: "For the last time it was not I that ever cheated on my wife," he snapped. "Now, I suppose you can make that cup of tea?"

"Have done since I was four years old and treated worse than Dobby!" snapped Harry back.

Timing her entrance perfectly a third voice was heard: "Recriminations get us nowhere," Ginny said walking in with a tray.

A pot of tea steeping in the centre sat squat with three fine tea cups surrounding her. "Our wedding china?" Harry asked. "Ginny..." again he was cowed by a sharp glance from his wife. Placing the tray on the table in the middle of the room Ginny handed Lucius a cup first. Oh the wonderful woman, warming the cup first. How perfectly civilised. No need for pretending to enjoy slumming it here. Silently, Mrs Potter carried the milk jug over to her guest. Delicately balanced between thumb and forefinger. Lucius poured his own desired amount. Then she said the best thing Lucius had heard for years in another person's home.

"A squeeze of lemon?" she asked. Nodding keeping his face impassive he sighed. Picking up a thinly sliced piece of lemon Ginny twisted it over his cup without squirting him in the eye.

"Where did you learn how to make this kind of tea?" he asked taking a mild sip. So delicious. He may be a Slytherin Wizard but he was still British. Tea made properly went hand in hand with both he felt.

Smiling Mrs Potter turned to Lucius after tending to her husband: "Hermione taught me," she sighed. "It was how her parents liked it. It is how she actually likes it."

Imperceptibly, Lucius patted the picture in his pocket again. Thank you, Mrs Potter for that invaluable information. What else does the famed Miss Granger like? Maybe he should begin his own private investigation into Hermione's tastes. Could he call her Hermione? Well, he supposed in her own words to his son: He had called her a lot worse in the past. Tomorrow, he would have to ask her how she would prefer to be addressed. That put another, almost forbidden, image in his mind. Stop undressing that Witch, Lucius. Why did she have to tease him with her cleavage? How was Draco not tempted?

Bringing his thoughts to heel Lucius realised he had to speak soon or the young Potter would bring up more chit chat. Did they know why he was here because the references to that particular incident kept creeping to the fore. Clearing his throat Lucius began to speak once Mrs Potter was settled with her own cup of tea. Poise and elegance in a Weasley? Never, in a million years, did he think he would see that. Not even an ounce of gorm showed through her intelligent brown eyes. He wondered if Astoria had something to do with that or maybe her part Veela sister-in-law.

"Unlike my father," Mrs Potter tilted her head to one side with a disparaging smirk on her lips, she continued: "I am prepared to listen to _anyone's_ side of the story, including yours, Mr Malfoy."

Including mine? The insolence of... then he noticed how her smile widened. She said it deliberately to injure his pride. Nice try, Mrs Potter, he smiled back. Almost everything he had said about that brood Lucius could almost take back if it were not for how idiotic her brothers were.

"It is always impolite to outstay ones welcome," Lucius sighed, "so I will get straight to the point."

"Is Astoria hurt?" Ginny's eyes widened. "I can be there if she is? I will Floo right now..."

Touched by Mrs Potter's concern Lucius had to allay her fears immediately. "No, my daughter-in-law is in perfectly fine health."

Slumping back in her husband's arm the relief was genuine. "Thank goodness." Lucius would tell Astoria that Mrs Potter was a worthy friend and to invite her over to the Manor more often. Even if that meant putting up with her four-eyed human accessory of a husband. "Give her my regards nevertheless."

Tipping his head in acknowledgement Lucius sighed: "No," he sipped more tea, "this is to do with that time that your father alluded too."

"Oh?" now Mrs Potter had tensed up again.

"Mr Potter made a reference to it too," here Mrs Potter arched an eyebrow, Merlin, what was with the women of Gryffindor now? Why were they so damn cynically hot! "Yours, my dear, was the most brutal reminder of all," he raised his cup towards Mrs Potter, sipping elegantly.

Lucius held his pinky out when he held the cup just like Hermione did, Ginny sighed. "In what way was it brutal?"

"You mentioned _Tom,_ " Lucius said having the decency to move in his seat and pretend at brushing something off his trouser to avoid looking directly into Mrs Potter's eyes: "I have never apologised for slipping that book to you, did I?"

"No," Ginny said, "you did not even _acknowledge_ you handed it to me, I recall."

"Well," Lucius shifted in his seat. Daring himself to look into her bright keen eyes, "I am now."

"Why?"

"Let's just say I have had many lonely nights thinking of what I may have done wrong – also, I have seen you around after the war. Followed your career." Nothing wrong with a little white lie, he sighed. I did to start with. "I asked myself," sitting back in his seat arching an eyebrow. Offering the shape of his still muscular thighs and tight calves. Lowering her eyes to the floor Mrs Potter turned around to Harry and smiled. Lucius noted married women do that all the time when he sat in that position. So, he had not lost his ability in that department either. Draco was right. He had been lingering far too long in his black bubble. "What would have happened if I found out your father hurt _my_ child in any way?"

"With what, exactly?" now Harry was interested and sat forward, wrapping an arm around Ginny's shoulders. "We need an example."

"I do not know," snapped Lucius irritably waving a hand dismissively in the air. "With whatever muggle contraption your father deemed all right to give to a child without understanding its true purpose."

Inside his head Harry imagined Arthur handing Draco a gun thinking it was one of those fun ones that squirted water and not realised it had bullets in it. Even Harry shuddered at the thought of how awful Arthur would feel if he realised he had hurt a child, no matter of what heritage. He had a hard time to believe Lucius felt such shame.

"The answer, of course, would be," Lucius took a long drink this time, observing the reactions in the young couple, "that I would storm up to Arthur bouncing him around with so many curses, hexes and jinxes that he would not be able to live without being fed through a straw."

"I think my dad _thought_ about it," Ginny pointed out.

"Ah, but _I_ would have acted on my desire for recompense."

"This is turning out to be a slap on the bush," Harry said. "Thought you did not believe in outstaying ones welcome," he put on Lucius air with exaggeration and voice. Earning him a sharp elbow in the ribs from his wife.

"You have to set a scene," Lucius tilted his head to the right. He was wrong, Young Potter was as irritating as the father. "Otherwise you would have no context to take into any kind of account."

"Harry," Ginny warned with a flash of understated anger. "Let the man speak!"

Harry sat back. It was clear this was a conversation he could only be witness too. "Fine."

"This is not easy for me to say this," Lucius had finished his cup of tea and leant over placing the empty vessels on the tray. "I understand now what a fool I was. When HE made his return," Lucius sighed, "I saw what everyone had been saying all along, not straight away, I admit. I saw what he could do _regardless_. When I received the Mark I was 19. Years before Draco was born. I talked Narcissa into joining. Truthfully, she never felt comfortable with it. That is why she ran to Severus to make sure he protected Draco. Neither of us wanted Draco to kill Dumbledore. Dumbledore did not want our son to be his murderer either!"

"Severus did not wish to be Dumbledore's assassin," Harry hissed, hackles raised now. Hatred of Professor Snape turned now to absolute respect. No one could joke about him now. "You all turned him into more of an emotional wreck than he was. YOU RUINED HIM!" roared Harry as he leapt to his feet, "What is to stop me from hexing you right now?"

Sharply, Ginny yanked him back on the sofa by the hem of her husband's shirt.

"Your wife," chuckled Lucius in answer. "You are right though," this was a sore point in his own heart too. He could not blame young Potter for his outburst. It was almost refreshing to hear a Gryffindor take a Slytherin's side. "Maybe the Dark Lord should have got Bellatrix to do it," Lucius sighed. "However, that was not the way HE thought. Every second of the day you had to look over your shoulder both right and left at the same time."

"Yes," Ginny whispered grabbing one of her cushions to scrunch her hands into, "I remember that was how I felt."

"I am sorry," Lucius said wishing he could make this one sweeping romantic gesture, not of a declaration of love – one of repentance and prostrate himself on his knees begging for her forgiveness. Unfortunately, he was too proud for that. So he had to make this sound as penitent as he could. "In the final year no one was sure what was happening. Utter chaos."

"Aside from torturing us?" Harry sighed.

"Even that was … unsettling."

"It looked like you were enjoying it to me."

Grinding her teeth together Ginny swung her head around and fixed her husband with another fierce glare: "Let the man say what he came here to say," she hissed. "If you do not like being in the same room as him you can cook dinner!"

"Thank you, Mrs Potter!" Lucius sat back in the seat. Steepling his fingers together in a graceful arch tapping the highest point against his lips, "I was not, actually. Again; I thought – they are my son's age. It was one thing when we were younger hurting Wizards and Witches our age," Harry scoffed, disbelieving the words the elder Malfoy spoke: "In that year, for those of us who were parents, to be doing that to children …"

"Bellatrix enjoyed herself," Harry mumbled prepared to get something right.

"Yes, but she was _not_ a parent," Lucius pointed out. "Bellatrix still thought she was 18," pursing his lips Lucius glanced at Ginny. "I must remember to reward your mother for murdering the poisonous bitch. Our marriage became stronger without her simpering threats pouring into my wife's ears every five minutes."

"I do not understand what this has got to do with anything," Ginny sighed.

"Back to the point," Lucius brushed aside some of his long blond locks from his face, "I came here to apologise. Truthfully, no tricks. Just a plain old apology from a man that has acquired wisdom through bitter experience."

The words seemed to take a long time to travel through to Ginevra's ears as she silently rose from her chair and started pacing around the room as if she wished to catch them in her hair. "Why now?" she mumbled.

"I have been grieving for my wife for three years now. Before that I was too busy fighting against ludicrous subpoena's and bizarre accusations."

"Yes but why own up to it now? That was 30 years ago."

"Does it still not scar you on the inside?"

Harry wanted to lie. He wished to make Lucius suffer for what he put her through. This was not up to him though. This was not his own personal grudge. If, indeed, a grudge did exist.

Almost standing directly in front of him Mrs Potter was more than worthy a tête-à-tête companion: "What other reason?" her voice held a distrusting edge to it that matched her narrowed eyes.

"I am gen-u-in-ely sorry," whispered Lucius slowly.

"I get that," Mrs Potter slunk back to her seat and sat down still facing him. "Why. Now?"

Yes, she was not going to let him go until he admitted that he needed her on his side. Or, at least, he needed her to understand why she may be seeing him around Hermione..., Miss Granger... yes, that would definitely have to be sorted out tomorrow, a lot more. The younger him would not have bothered with such etiquette and called her what he felt like.

"I believe you may not wish to hear ill being spoken of about your sibling, Mrs Potter," Lucius said, "but I have no faith in a court who would hand the offspring over to a man who – with his actions – not only betrayed his wife but the children too."

"I have said worse about him in public," Ginny said. "We have decided to have nothing to do with him."

"That makes this easier than I expected it too then," Lucius grinned. Makes what easier? Harry distrusted that statement. Every time the man smiled, Harry frowned, Mr. L. Malfoy reminded him of an albino crocodile. Especially with that dirty smirk plastered over his features aimed squarely at his wife. The man was 67 for crying out loud. Yet he could still make a twenty year old blush. In truth Harry was slightly jealous. He had heard plenty of women his age and down whisper at the Ministry fountain gushing over how eligible Mr L. Malfoy would be as a husband. Some even considered him a flipping hero! "Draco told me to find a purpose in life. Advice I respect," he sat forward with a sigh that softened his features, "I read the _Daily Prophet_ gossip column earlier. Immediately I set to work finding out all I could – I sent so many Owls that I believe I darkened the sky with them," now Lucius looked up with genuine openness that shocked Harry. It made his wife visibly relax. "I got many lengthy replies and I believe I can compile a case for..." what should he call her? Yes, best stay with formality for now. "Miss Granger," shame because Hermione did genuinely roll of the tongue so delightfully, "to gain full custody of her children but I need to know I have her friends on her side with the decision she has made."

"You have consulted with Hermione then?" Mrs Potter asked.

"Yes."

"Explains the apology," the redhead sighed.

"I do mean it, Mrs Potter. You know my arrogance and lack of need to explain myself but I am not the man I once was. Believe me."

"No, you are not," Ginny agreed. Turning to her husband she took his hand and sat back down on her sofa, "I never liked that Nanny – she was always too eager to be by Ron's side. Making sure he always had his favourite foods for a start."

"What else do you need us for?" Harry asked narrowing his eyes.

"What makes you think I have other deals in mind?"

"I dealt enough with Draco to know how a Malfoy works."

"Touché," Lucius smirked. "Did I really think you were irritating at one point?"

"I believe you're exact words were: _You had best be careful or you, Mr Potter, would have the same sticky end as your parents._ "

"See, I would not say that now to an 11 year old boy."

"12."

"Whatever."

"Nearly 13 actually."

"Harry, if he does not curse you I will!"

Chuckling deep within his soul Lucius shook his head: "You really do have a strong minded wife."

"I love her for it."

"You mean I am not attractive to you any more?"

"Word of advice," Lucius stood up preparing to take his leave, "from one married man to another, Mr Potter. _Never_ enter into a conversation that starts of with _that_ sentence." Smiling at the young couple he bowed his head in deference. Both Potter's rose as one knowing he intended to leave soon: "So, do we have an arrangement?"

"You have yet to tell me what you gain from fighting Hermione's corner?" Ginny said turning back around to Lucius. "You were rudely interrupted."

"I wish you, Mrs Potter, to fight _my_ corner for _me_."

"So this is not truly altruistic then?"

"No, Mrs Potter, it is not."

Harry sighed. Get your lecherous eyes off my wife you blond prat, he wanted to say. Instead, Harry said: "What else do you want to gain?"

"I do not know what you mean."

"You are widowed," Harry said, "Hermione is divorced. What _else_ do you want from this?"

"I am doing this to honour Wizard Law and to receive a full Pardon. There is nothing else to be gained from this. I can assure you," Lucius tipped his head to the side, Mr Potter still fiercely protected her then. Excellent. "Miss Granger is _not_ my type!" Liar, a snide voice remarked inside his head. You have not got that image of her perched so business like on her desk with her arms folded out of your head. "In the slightest."

"Because of her parentage?"

"No, because she is too young." Oh you should have been an actor, the same voice sniggered. Too young? She is 43 – all above board and Bristol fashion, so the saying goes, eh Lucius.

"Well," Ginny said extending a hand out. Bending her fingers gently downwards Lucius raised it to his lips where he kissed the back of them. Playfully winking as he did so: "Owl us when you have notes or evidence you wish us to consider regarding a full pardon for your case."

"Send my regards to your mother, Mrs Potter. Whatever she desires I will give her for doing me the biggest favour anyone could ever do," Lucius noticed a confused glance pass between them. Had they never heard a Slytherin say thank you before... no they probably haven't. "Besides you, Mr Potter, you saved my son's life. Then destroyed... _Tom_... forever."

"Just so that we are clear on this," Harry leant heavily on one of his wife's shoulders as he stepped around her exposed side, extending a sort of entente cordiale by proffering his hand. Business like they shook. Hmm, that was a decent gentleman's grip: "If someone rises up in the name of Slytherin purity again and you are alive what would you do?"

"Put this in perspective of our conversation and come to your own conclusion."

"Mr Malfoy," Ginny curtsied in goodbye, "I must allow my husband to see you out as I have dinner to serve."

Both men let out a silent groan as Ginny flounced prettily out of the room. "I can show myself out," Lucius said.

"When did you see Hermione?"

"A few hours ago."

"She made no mention of it."

Because the little vixen wanted me to make an apology first no doubt. Did not wish for more pressure on me than I already felt the moment she asked me to do this.

Now he knew what was so odd about the hallway. There were no pictures of Ron sitting on the walls. They had purged the boy from their lives. "So, who will be your best friend now?"

Letting his guard down Harry smiled. "I am married to her."

"Yes," Lucius sighed, "I was married to mine too," the look that passed across Lucius face shocked Harry. The man was genuinely still grieving for Narcissa.

"Look," Harry sighed shaking his head, "for what it's worth. I am still sorry for her death."

"Not you too. Miss Granger said it like it was her fault."

"I do not know what else to say," Harry sighed, "I owe my life to her and I never got a chance to repay."

"Well, perhaps helping me gain my Exoneration will be your price to my wife."

Finally Harry had conceded: "Yes, I suppose it could be."

His opinion of the _boy who lived_ flip flopped through out the conversation but it ended on a flip. Mr Potter was someone that could be reasoned with after all, and he understood Wizengamot obligations. "I was quite prepared to be cynical about your home," Lucius said.

With studied grace, Lucius glanced around the lounge. Dark wooded shelves set into alcoves groaned with the weight of all the magical books the couple were clearly interested in. Peppered throughout were the odd Muggle fantasies that Mrs Potter enjoyed reading. Proudly displayed in the centre of their lounge stood a glass table. Magically enchanted stained glass artfully created such serenity in his heart. The beauty of it quite took his breath away. Hooded eyes appraised the gentle scene of a silver unicorn lying in a spring glade with her golden foal. That was something he would have. Definitely a couple with taste.

"That table," he pointed with his cane, "where did you get it?"

"It was a wedding present from the school faculty."

"I must say you and your wife have a comfortable home," he said, "I understand why you decided not to live in Grimmauld Place."

Taken aback by genuine praise Harry blinked and when his eyes were restored Lucius was no longer standing there. Ginny walked in at that very moment. "He complimented us on our home!" Harry exclaimed, open mouthed. "Never did I think I would hear praise coming from him."

"Neither did you think you would have invited Draco and Astoria to your home for dinner but you have and this weekend is ruined because of it!"

"What had you got planned?"

"We were supposed to go to Paris, remember? By ourselves."

"Sorry, it slipped my mind. Anyway, I asked only out of politeness, I did not expect Draco to accept. Maybe Astoria doesn't want to come."

"Astoria pinches my recipes and gives them to her house elves!"

"Why do you think he wants to help Hermione?" Harry asked as if he had ignored this last statement: "You must have some suspicions about this?"

"For the most part I believe he is genuine. There is no blood feud now, Harry. Let it die with our generation. It has to sometime."

"You are right," Harry sighed. "But what do _you_ think?"

"He seemed to have a little warmth when he spoke of Hermione. His reply to your question on why he was not her type was answered fairly promptly. So," she sighed, "who knows perhaps he does just want to uphold Wizard Law."

"Really?" Harry sighed. "Or maybe just hold Hermione up against a wall."

"Harry Potter, how could you think of such a thing?"

"I have eyes, Ginny. Lucius Malfoy does not seem like he has aged a day since the war," Harry sighed gazing into Ginny's eyes. "Even you blushed when he looked at you."

"I did not!"

"You did, Ginny."

"So what if I did," Ginny shrugged. "I love you – insufferable though you can be at times. I. Love. You!" she took his face in her hands and smashed her lips to his in a heated passionate kiss that made Harry want to forget about dinner and just go to bed with his wife. "When dinner is over I have something to tell you," she panted.

"Still," Harry sighed not wanting to let his point vanish by a brilliant kiss from his wife. "Hermione has become more attractive over time. What do _you_ think is likely to happen between the widow and the divorcee?"

"You watch too many soap drama's, Potter!"

"Only when I am at my cousins!"

"Besides," Ginny shrugged her shoulders, "why should anything be held back if something is to happen. This could be the beginning of a new era in Hogwart's history."

"Well, it is not like they can have children anyway."

"Who says they can't?"

"She's a year older than I am," Harry said. "Not exactly child bearing age. Also he is in his 6o's."

"Yes, Harry," Ginny rolled her eyes, "Wizards can have children up until they die at the time they are supposed to."

"Her parents were muggles so she would have the muggle..."

"I said _Wizards_ , Harry, male magical men."

"But Hermione can't?"

"There _are_ certain potions a witch can use for fertility at her age if she desired more children. The only person that could help her with that is Severus S..."

"I prefer Headmaster Snape," the portrait of Severus Snape slunk into view. "I could not help but overhear your conversation with Mr Malfoy Jr," Harry jumped immediately looking guilty. Why did he still feel like a child in his presence? It was just a portrait of him. "Become quite chummy the last few years have you not?"

"Only for appearances sake."

"Then why the dinner invitation?"

"Being polite."

"That is your mother speaking there," the portrait of Severus sighed heavily. "So, what mess has Miss Granger found herself in now?"

"Divorced from my brother. He was found in bed with another woman."

"A Slytherin would know better," Snape sniffed. "How is Miss Granger?"

"Uhm," Harry said, "it appears she has agreed to let Lucius Malfoy fight her corner for her but he wants a full pardon in return," Harry slumped against the wall.

"Stand Up, Potter, DON'T SLOUCH!" Severus Snape's painting roared. Almost tearing the canvas.

Like he was 11 Harry furtively stood back up and put his glasses back into place. "Sorry, Sir." Fully expecting ten points from Gryffindor.

"You wanted my advice?"

"Yes, though how did you ..."

"Dumbledore's portrait told me you needed me specifically," that was a lie.

"Well, what can we do?"

"If your frankly more intelligent friend has agreed to this deal then I would say do what she wished. I remember you doing things that hurt her as youths. Do not abandon her now."

"I was not planning to I was just wondering if we could trust Mr Malfoy Sr?"

"Lucius and Narcissa were instrumental in making sure HE did not kill me before your Fifth year."

"Yes and then he proceeds to threaten me."

"You and your friends were supposed to be in school, Potter."

Chastened by this and the danger he put his friends through that time Harry realised why Snape found him so aggravating. Truthfully, I'd snap some sense at the younger me too; "I am not sure if I can just forgive him though."

"You despise me but you name your son after me?"

"Yes," Harry sighed, "I _despised_ you," he glanced up at the visage staring at him with those glittering black eyes the man held in life. Somehow more startling in paint, "is Mr Malfoy Sr. really going to help Hermione or is he setting her up for a fall?"

"If he says he is, then he is!" Snape's portrait sighed, "we were best friends."

"He also apologised to Ginny for what he did."

"I did have words with him about that," Snape said without expanding on what form those words took.

"What should we do if it seems they start liking each other as um..." Harry began blushing.

"Lovers?" Severus sneered. "Spare your blushes, Potter. I was not a virgin when I died, you know," that image caused Harry to shudder. "Forgive me if I am wrong you must be 41?"

"42."

"Miss Granger would be 43 and he would be 67 ... 68?"

"That is not the ..."

"What _is_ the point, then?"

"I don't know."

"Then I can only offer you a piece of advice you probably would have hated as a student."

Harry looked up. "That is?"

"To be patient. Sit things out. See how things develop. Remember the simmering cauldron, Potter."

"What about it?"

"Some potions takes months to perfect. Many ingredients need the right time to be picked. Others need to seep slowly in the shimmering liquid marinating amongst each other with something akin to courtship to make the draught work." Ginny felt the need to fan herself and she was in the kitchen. Harry wished he had appreciated Professor Snapes semi-hypnotic rhetoric before. "If you are still concerned I will come back and talk things out but you know I prefer to have things to work from."

"Yes sir," Harry sighed.

"Shame you did say that more often as a student, Mr Potter," the portrait's lips curved slightly at the corners.

"I _did_ call you Sir," Harry said the old indignation back in his green eyes.

Chuckling Snape's portrait chided back: "Once or twice if you had to."

"Before you go," Harry asked. "How is … Albus … fairing?"

"The portrait or your son?"

"My son."

"A Slytherin I would have been proud to have taught," Severus painting said honestly. "No need to worry, Scorpius has him under his wing and won't allow anyone to say a bad word to him."

With that Headmaster Severus Snape slipped out; returning to his frame at Hogwarts.

" _Still_ keeping an eye on Harry, Severus?" Dumbledore's portrait mumbled as he was drifting off with the others – even in the picture his periwinkle eyes twinkled.

Sighing Severus looked at Dumbledore with as much of a withering glare as he could: "Always," he said. "Always..." he mumbled.

 **Authors Note:**

Yes, _Muggle Style_ is shamelessly ripped from Gangnam Style, just could not resist.

I also love the idea of Ginny swapping recipes with all the wives of husbands and the richer ones giving them to their house elves.

Thank you for all your kind comments on the last chapter; I do not think Lucius enjoyed that little serving do you? Though I think he now is pleased Harry did save Ginny after all... if only to use as a tool to get a rise out of her father. Come on, this is Lucius, you cannot expect him to play nicely, can you dears?


	3. Serpentine Charm

**THANK YOU FOR ALL THE WONDERFUL COMMENTS x** Keep them coming! This chapter, is what I like to call filler rather than killer. Next chapter will have more action to it, I promise you.

 **A/N:** _When I write Hermione I hear and see Julia Sawalha, I always have done. I can just imagine she would have inhabited the role perfectly. Idea is original. Characters, world, creatures etc are all from JK Rowling's wonderful imagination._

 **WARNING: _This chapter contains somewhat sadistic images of Hermione's pre-Hogwarts life._**

 **Fortune Favours The Brave**

 **Serpentine Charm**

 **OUCH!** Hermione found herself waking up in her office, on her couch. Mouth as dry as Professor's Snape's wit. Still in yesterday's clothes. Blinking her eyes gently, Hermione sat up and soon flopped back down on the sofa. Head flat against a pillow wrapping the ends around her ears to keep the tiniest sounds out. Groaning as she felt the contents of her stomach wanting to travel up her system. Immediately Hermione scurried into a seating position and promptly threw up. The stench reached her nostrils eliciting another bout of vocal nausea. What had...? Oh, she remembered. Trembling and weak, Hermione placed her hands on her clammy forehead. The bottle was the indication of what happened. Jack Daniels. The entire bottle. No wonder she felt like the wrong end of a curry overdose.

Shortly after Luci... Mr Malfoy left her office Hermione glanced at the picture of her children and growled with the intention of getting rip roaring drunk to forget for awhile that she was Hermione Granger: The once brightest witch of her age. One of the Golden Trio. A Gryffindor Brave. More importantly, she wished to forget that she was a Witch. Taking her coat, bag and house keys she walked out of her office where she briefly bumped into one of the people she wished to temporarily purge from her mind. Arm rubbing. Here for you. Come stay with us. Blahdy blah blah blaady blah!

What did he know? His marriage was warm. Loving. Successful. He had three beautiful children. A job that actually kept him out of the limelight which he always wanted to have. Harry Potter was no longer the bespectacled boy wonder; but a comfortably well off, fairly average Wizard, who once saved the world. Her marriage was more fiery. All the heat was used in arguing rather than passionate love making. Offering a weak smile sent his way, Hermione let Harry go with a half-hearted: I will think about it.

Once out in the streets, Hermione shrugged her coat on. Slung her bag over her head so the strap crossed along her chest and she proceeded to walk straight to the nearest off-licence or Supermarket to buy the desired amount of high percentage alcohol and take it home with her. That was the plan! On the way to a suitable Apparation Sector she was stopped by several people with clipboards trying to get her to donate to their various charities. Whilst she would normally delve deep for muggle cash and put what she could in the tins, this evening Hermione snapped at all of them – including a boy that looked like Neville Longbottom - to leave her alone in language that would make a sailor blush. By the time people realised not to approach the fire eyed woman she had no energy to Apparate and, efficient though she was, she did not wish to be spliced. She was still depressingly sober. So, she decided to go back to the Ministry. Hiding the drink underneath her coat as it was somewhat frowned upon to have your own private liquor at work. All sorts of mishaps could happen if passions became wrought otherwise.

Hurrying to her office, Hermione could not wait to go on her solo drinking binge. She did not even bother to procure a glass to drink out from. Sitting down on her couch, after judiciously bringing a pillow out from a cupboard she kept here, and a duvet she enchanted to grow the moment it felt air, she curled her legs up. Wrapping the duvet right up to her neck and laid her head on the pillow and glugged down as much of the bottle as she could in one go. Ignoring the burn with the first gulp as she winced with the strength. Still, she had set out to drink the entire volume so she did. Not even bothering to nurse the bottle or contemplate the colour or feel the ingredients that made it what it was. Unceremoniously, on an empty stomach, Hermione made extremely quick work. Why? Why? Why? Why? Each swig, tug and pull of the draught she took the question became a muffled cry in her head until, right at the end she did not hear it at all. That was not enough, perhaps she should... Flop! Her head hit the pillow and, as she slept, the grip on the bottle lessened.

The next thing she knew she woke up feeling like Hagrid's beard on fire. She probably looked like it too. Taking her wand, Hermione mumbled _Scourgify_. Then _Parfumier Lavandula_ , in the air to get the office smelling less like a Babylonian Boozers Bedroom and more like the office of a clever and normally sober Witch! What had possessed her to do that? It cannot have been Luciu... Mr Malfoy. In fact he was practically being a gentleman and... She grimaced – charming at that. The way those eyes delved into her own without fear made her feel semi-desirable. Dressed impeccably. Wonderful charm. Mr Darcy, Hermione thought with a little smirk. He was Mr Darcy.

Walking past a window Hermione caught a glimpse of herself and groaned. She was right. Resembling something of Hagrid's beard when it was at it's scruffiest after the flames. Hermione also noticed her clothes. Someone was coming today... Oh! Merlin's teeth, she groaned. Luci... Mr Malfoy was coming. Not that she cared about her personal appearance that much... Maybe if you had, Ronald would have stayed with you, Hermione's Inner Snape snapped at her. You _have_ looked at his new play thing, haven't you?

"Shut up," she hissed grabbing hold of her forehead.

What was she going to do? There was only _so_ much magic could accomplish. She could use the showers but she would still have to put the clothes back on. Could she walk out and quickly buy herself some clothes from somewhere like M&S or Debenhams? A quick check of her watch put the kibosh on that idea. Besides, she doubt she'd be welcome in Debenhams looking like that. What about Oxfam, sneered the Inner Snape, you will fit right in.

"Right, you are going to smarten up somehow." Squaring her shoulders she picked up the pillow and stuffed it in back in its cupboard. After reducing the duvet so it would fit on a shelf, Hermione locked the cupboard door. Tired, Hermione put her wand on her desk. Picking the bottle up she wondered how she could dispose of it without anyone knowing. "Get a grip on yourself and be Hermione Granger."

"Who are you speaking too?" Hermione squeaked as she turned around holding the empty bottle in her hand. In shock she dropped the bottle and it smashed on the floor.

"Lu … Mr Malfoy!" she stammered. "I did not expect you here so early?"

Arching his eyebrow, Lucius bent down and gingerly inspected the label amongst the shards being incredibly careful so as not to cut his skin. "Have the rules changed since I was here?"

Blushing Hermione quickly grabbed her wand and tried to clean the floor. Lu – Mr. , she chided herself through gritted teeth, was in the way though and she did not want to hurt him: "No," Hermione said, "I did plan to take it home but mu – charity representatives kept stopping me on the way to the nearest Apparition Sector. By the time I reached it, I was as near to here as I was to home, I was in such a temper I did not want to risk being spliced so I came back here."

"This is a muggle brand?" Amazing, not even a hint of sneer.

"Yes," she hissed rubbing her temples dropping her wand at Mr Malfoy's feet. "Look, I know we made an arrangement for today but I do not think I can cope."

"I think you need help, Miss Granger," Lucius sighed, standing up. "I do not wish to sound rude," Hermione snorted: That's a first. "But sleeping in your office, drinking fourth rate beverages, and vomiting up what little you probably ate for your dinner..."

"I didn't have a dinner," Hermione mumbled.

Exasperation clearly showed in the Aristocrat's face as he swept a cursory glance up and down the young woman: "I completely understand," he sighed. Honesty was a dangerous road to go down for a Slytherin but he knew that she would respond to him if he allowed his guard to go down a little. "When Narcissa died, I was bereft upon a lonely shore where the hazy horizon showed only thunderclouds. I felt like I was walking through quicksand with no where to go."

How could he do it? Hermione wondered. In the midst of this he had taken her hands and examined them. "Your touching me!"

"I am well aware of that," his eyes deferred to their favourite position. That lovely, teasing peak of rising and falling breasts.

"You do not mind?"

Briefly, his eyes fluttered up and gazed deeply into her frightened expression: "I have changed, Miss Granger," he sighed, "you are just as much a Witch as I am a Wizard," with that he drew her close to his body. Her breath caught in her throat. "In fact I have some ideas I need your help with." Gulp! This man was just breathtaking when kind. "Firstly," he wanted to hold her. Protect her. Vulnerability turned him on. Those eyes were so warm, Draco told him to find a purpose. In that instant, sparks fluttered to his heart, his new ultimate aim was now clear. Lucius Malfoy was to be her Dark Knight. The armour may be grubby, he thought, but that meant he fought. Never could he understand the shining armour picture. Even he thought that meant the sign of a true coward. Surely a woman would have preferred to see battle scars for her honour rather a pristine, sparkling pompous dolt? "Floo Network," he said, grabbing hold of her wrists in one hand and picked her wand up with the other.

"See, I was so messed up, I forgot about Floo Network."

"Mr Potter Apparated."

"He enjoys it."

"You do not?"

"In truth?" she said. Lucius nodded as he opened her door and pulled her out of her office, almost yanking her arm out of her socket. "I hate travelling. No matter what form it takes."

"Muggle transportation?"

"Just because you grow up with something does not mean you take to it. I was car sick from the ages of five to seven. I prefer swimming in the water than to being on a boat, and I absolutely despise air travel."

"Does not leave you many options, does it not."

"I am not car sick now. Bus is not too bad. But air travel still has my stomach fluttering in knots."

If only he had known that, Lucius sighed. It would have made torturing her easier. Stop thinking like that. No, he should be ecstatic he did not know one of her minor fears. "Draco must have heard about Hippogriffs," Hermione sighed, "yet he still put on act of baseless fear in front of one just because he wanted one up on Harry and discredit Hagrid."

"Ah, yes," Lucius sighed, "I believe that is another misdemeanour I must apologise for."

Eventually, he stopped in a darkened hall with pale flickering light that held four doors – all led to the same type of room. The hexagonal room showed six fireplaces set in the six walls. Already Employees were stepping out, dusting themselves down. Oh no, Hermione groaned. Please do not let him see me. I do not want to be reminded and I especially do not need that leer. Trying to be invisible, Hermione shrank against Lucius Malfoy. Noticing the woman wilt against him Lucius turned to where her eyes were blatantly failing to ignore.

Stepping out of the opposite fireplace to them was a Wizard that clearly Hermione wished not to see. Tall, lean, dark hair. Pale beautiful skin. Startling blue eyes. Muggle women turned heads. Witches flirted. Hermione had done something that would make all them sigh with envy! Theodore Nott had seen her, despite the fact that she looked like Hagrid's beard had sprouted legs, he dodged past associates and winked in her direction. Inaudibly to Nott but not so much to Lucius, Hermione groaned. Unconsciously, Lucius squeezed her hand, something went on between these two and she regretted it. By the looks on his face, Nott didn't.

"Hermione?" Theodore said, grinning as he stepped up to her. "I still remember that night you know."

Night? With Theodore Nott. Why did Lucius suddenly want to blast the youth to kingdom come? "A mistake," Hermione replied curtly. "You remember Draco's father?"

"Hello Mr Malfoy," Theodore said.

The contempt he used to show to Hermione and the Weasley's returned in full force with an ugly sneer at the impossibly handsome younger Slytherin before him. Another sign of how old he really was. "Mr Nott," he deigned to say.

A short nod of the head by Nott showed he wanted to talk to Hermione again: "So, Hermione, how about it?"

"How about what?" Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Well now you're truly away from the Measle," Nott had walked closer to Hermione and touched her jaw with his fingers. "Why do we not carry on where we left off?"

"Do you not have work to do, Nott?" Lucius loved the sarcastic tone Hermione used.

"Oh come on, Hermione, you could not deny we had fun that night."

"NOTT!" A voice yelled. Someone had a grudge with the man. He blanched and ran off.

Leaving a confused, curious and admittedly jealous Lucius. There were sparks between Hermione and Theodore. I'm her Knight, he scowled. You're just a worm. He felt a gentle tug on his sleeve bringing him back to the present.

"Mr Malfoy," she said shyly, "where are you taking me?"

Without answering Lucius turned around to the pot of freshly filled powder. Damn it, Hermione thought, can the Wizard do anything and not get dirty? The manner in which he rubbed the flecks of dust between his fingers mesmerized her as she imagined those fingers massaging something else. Damn! Hermione quickly had to cover her breasts to hide the fact that this simple, every day act, was not affecting her. Good luck with that, the Inner Snape returned, this is Lucius remember. Seductive, powerful, handsome...

"Shut up!" she said.

"Pardon?" Lucius said.

"Nothing," Hermione mumbled. Liar! The Inner Snape sneered again. "Where are we going?"

"My Manor," he said simply. My Manor. Draco had not inherited the full fortune and would not until Lucius died. Cynically, Hermione wondered that Mr Malfoy gave Draco some control over the say in investments and the several pies the Malfoys had their beautiful, strong, elegant fingers in to stop being murdered in his bed. "I think that it should be..."

All this skipped Hermione for a second as what he said rang in her head. His Manor? "Hellfire!" the epithet slipped out before Hermione could stop it. "Um, sorry," she coloured.

"No need," Lucius arched an eyebrow. "You were married to a Weasley for 20 years and knew him before that," grimacing at the thought that she was a Weasley for that long. When she should have been a Malfoy. Normally, Hermione would arch one back in non communicative response but her head threatened to murder her body. "Astoria will help you restore yourself to your wonderful glory."

Wonderful glory? Who speaks like that? Not a hint of sarcasm! Seriously, who does... Lucius Malfoy, that's who! "I did not want to get drunk," Hermione said quickly. Suddenly, she felt the need to justify herself to Lucius Malfoy. "Just that," lowering her eyes along with her voice, "it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"I told you," he whispered, stepping into the grate. Tenderly pulling her against him, "I understand."

Moments later Hermione found that she was stepping out into a light, but still, opulent room. Breakfast room? Hermione turned towards the fireplace she had just stepped out of but Lucius held her with his arm clamped around her waist. Clearly anticipating her desire to run. What was so important that he could not wait? When Lucius said she needed looking after she assumed he meant in a fatherly capacity; like Arthur would. But the way he glared at Nott was not how Arthur would have looked upon a Wizard her age asking her out.

"This is the..." the door opened. Oh no, Hermione wanted to be swallowed up whole. It was all very well that Lucius wanted her to be here but her friendship with Draco was still raw and new. Lest so with Astoria. They spoke at functions. Sometimes swapped gossip and, on the odd occasion, Hermione had joined Fleur and Ginny on their extensive shopping expeditions. Astoria had even purchased Hermione the odd trinket as a present. But would that truly extend to allowing Hermione to stay?

"Father I..." he stopped and saw who was standing by his father's side, "... was about to ask what we were going to do...?"

"Is Astoria awake?"

"Not yet, father, I had to slip out before she became... affectionate."

"What is wrong with that?" Hermione blurted out. Great. That was going to go down well. The last time she had been shown affection was with Nott. Groaning at the memory, Hermione wanted to be killed. Now. Just do it. For the first time she was proud of her bushy hair, it gave her something to hide behind. "I'm sorry that was rude," she said. Not noticing Draco close the space between them, "It is not like I was invited..." stop blushing Hermione. You are 43 not 13. "This is not a good idea, I sho..." she quickly turned around and was about to Floo back to her office but she felt another firm hand on her shoulder.

With force Hermione was turned around. Kindly fingers brushed her hair against her forehead. Through the slit Hermione was made uncomfortable by Draco's concerned, sapphire eyes, sparkle warmly at her. At 13 he would have gone boo; or something equally childish, but she was surprised at what she saw. Eyes that used to glitter with cold hard dislike softened into heart meltingly warmth: "There is no mistake," he said.

"What..."

"I saw you sneak back in last night and you looked like you had rummaged through Snape's underwear drawer," Hermione dared to glance up into Draco's eyes as they had lowered as soon as they could. "I witnessed the same look when my mother died," he glanced up at his Father. "This morning I happened to mention it to my Father," Hermione wished Draco would stop gazing at her so earnestly. Warmth spread to her neck. God's, if he looked at her like that thirty years ago, she'd have melted. Now she took Astoria into account and tried to remember he was married: "He left as soon as he could via the Floo network obviously to see if you were drowned in Ogden's or something..."

"Not exactly drowned," she mumbled, "maybe waist deep but not drowned."

As Draco was about to answer; the door opened again. Regal, perfect, and beautiful, Astoria entered. The sight that met her eyes astonished her but she schooled her features into refined composure. For what she saw was her Father-in-law protectively holding what looked like a hedge on legs and her husband seemingly yanking on it's branches. "Please, tell me, this is another one of your pranks, Draco."

Thank Merlin's socks, Hermione sighed, she knew Astoria would see it from her perspective. No matter how civil the husband could be, she knew Slytherin women. No Slytherin woman would tolerate her in their domain. No matter how friendly they were. "Dearest," Draco turned around smiling. Immediately allowing her hair out of his hands covering her face. "Not a prank, Hermione decided to drown her sorrows and father found her."

This would be it, Hermione was not sure if she had her wand with her. Sorely at a disadvantage and feeling the water rise to chest Hermione was, again, about to make a dash back to the fireplace. Or she would have if Lucius fingers were not digging into her hips. Not only touching but _clutching_ hold of her. What was so important about him gaining this pardon anyway?

Suddenly, she felt the wind being knocked out of her and engulfed in a wrap of perfume and silk: "Have the Malfoy's been taking happy potions?" Hermione said suddenly. "I was not aware we were that close."

"I would be but you seem to put your defences up."

"Old habit," Hermione said. "It was not even as if I hated snakes before Hogwarts," why did she say that? Now there had to be a story. Still, she could leave the unimportant details out.

"Oh come on," Astoria said, "you have justify that statement." Was the arched eyebrow a prerequisite for becoming a Malfoy?

"It's a long story," Hermione said gazing around the three Malfoys.

"We have time," said Draco looking rather cheeky. A smile that Hermione would have wanted to slap clean of his face thirty years ago. "Do we not father?"

"Of course," Lucius said. "I think you will find, we Slytherin's are partial to an extensive saga." Gods, Wizard, Hermione tried to keep her knees from buckling, you should be illegal. "Especially one told by an intelligent and beautiful narrator as I am sure you are?"

Oh dad, Draco smirked his father's way, if we were not here she would have leapt on you. How you made her blush and stutter, you like her, eh! Serpentine charm slithers off your tongue in a silken embrace and Hermione Granger is most certainly not immune.

"Like all children," she sighed. Now Astoria was leading her to a chair. Once seated, Hermione continued. This would be when Lucius left the room... No, he stood behind her chair. Gripping tightly onto the scalloped edging at the top. Draco noticed his Father's fingers entwine in Hermione's hair. "I went to muggle zoo's and some of them had displays and allowed volunteers to hold animals. On a school trip before..." before what? Lucius wondered why Hermione stopped there. "On a school outing, we went to Whipsnade Zoo. There was a Reptile House. Kept lizards. Snakes. Creatures that thrived in hot climes. Anyway," she sighed. "A handsome, twinkle eyed, zoo keeper that told me what sexuality I was," she looked up at Lucius: Straight, she sighed looking in his eyes, I could go straight to you but you would not want me. "Sort of how I imagine you would look with black hair and darker skin," she smiled. Looking down on her Lucius returned her warmth. "This man proceeded to reveal a massive boa constrictor, he asked if anyone wanted to hold it," biting her lower lip Hermione directed her gaze to Astoria.

"Go on?" she said.

"The class all held back apart from me," Stop talking Hermione! Do they really want to know all this? Of course not. They are being well-mannered. "Then again, you know how I would not do that," rolling his eyes, Draco remembered full well, how Hermione was never backwards in coming forward in class. "I did not put my hand up or volunteer," she said, "I was just not scared." Suddenly, she felt Lucius hand on her shoulder. It felt comforting. They _were_ listening to her gabbling. Taking in her words. She allowed former enemies into a story she had never told Harry. "The snakes head kept bobbing up and down. Flicking its tongue in and out, I looked at the Keeper: _That is normal, if she sensed fear, she would have tensed up and I would not let you near her._ Her obsidian eyes bored right into mine." Astoria had finally walked to the nearest chair and sat down opposite her with her hands laid on her lap. Eyes gleamed, enraptured by Hermione's story. Draco fidgeted about in his tunic. Lucius closed his eyes and gulped down the need for water: " _Little girl_ , the zookeeper pointed at me. _The pretty girl with the brown hair, what's your name sweetie?_ One boy cruelly yelled out: Geeky Freaky!" Shuddering at the memory, Hermione's expression said all that this hurt her still. "Insufferable Know-It-All for the muggle world I suppose," a lump formed in her throat. Without knowing it, Hermione reached up and took hold of Lucius' hand stroking his fingers that were pinching hard into her flesh. Taking comfort from his skin. The action did not go unnoticed by Astoria. "The class laughed," Hermione stroked further up Lucius hand and held on tightly. Yes, Astoria sighed, this is going to be too perfectly delightful. "Anyway I introduced myself, I believe I said: Minimy," with a sigh and a squeeze on his wrist Hermione dropped her hand. Disappointment quickly flashed in Lucius' silver gaze as he moved his hand further down her shoulder onto her arm. Draco recognised the protective touch when he saw it. Poor Hermione, he sighed. She stands no chance with my wife wanting to have match made my father for awhile now and he knew his wife was beginning to plot. He pitied her.

"Yes, you introduced yourself," Astoria sighed dreamily. She was so jealous. The closest she got to a snake was the jewellery she owned. "To this how gorgeous a muggle?"

"I _wish_ I _could_ convey how gorgeous this man was," the way Astoria leaned forward encouraged Hermione to continue with the story. "I was not _always_ the girl that bounced up and down on a chair with her hand flying up in the air. Before that I..." before that, what? Why did she stop there again? "This iridescently; hypnotically, gorgeous boa constrictor wrapped her sinewy body around mine. Hot, heavy, gleaming and silky," Hermione drifted off into the memory and licked her lips. Lucius saw how her lips darkened with the thought, her skin glow and how her pupils dilated. "Slipping through the keeper's fingers and around my hair," her voice and breathing became soft and ragged. "The tongue licked my neck and I giggled. The keeper looked at me: _Seems she likes you_ , the Keeper said." Hermione sighed, "Something had to. Before..." grinding his teeth together Lucius applied extra pressure on her bicep to keep him calm. Slytherin senses kicked in as he realised Hermione had undergone something psychologically terrible between this incident and the letter. "I asked the Keeper the name of the snake," the Slytherin's had held in their breath. The image of a six year old Hermione with a snake wrapped around her made Draco more fond of her. Damning, for once, the stupid Pure Blood rules that Salazar set in. There had to be a way to bypass that. Hermione should have been his friend. " _Liana_ , was the snake's name," Hermione sighed. Inside his head Lucius tested the name. Liana Malfoy. He liked it. "I jumped and found Liana wound down my back." From his vantage point, Lucius saw her cleavage seemingly to grow with each laboured breath, Hermione allowed the sensual part of the tale take over. "Scales slipped against the fabric of my school uniform, the gentle hiss Liana sighed as she writhed and wound. Eventually her head was right by my cheek." Now Lucius pinched his fingers into her. Wow, this was probably the most sensitized story he had ever heard. Good job the Dark Lord never got to hear about this. He would have ruined Hermione's lovely skin with that rotten mark. "Purples, greens, golds glistened; shone and gleamed in the sun. Liana was so beautiful," Lucius felt his throat constrict, suddenly he needed water like never before. Preferably a bucket filled, ice cold water to be poured down his back to cool the ardour growing within. "Variegated hues from lilac to violet, mint to emerald, orange and yellows, pulsated and expanded their circular patterns buried deeply with the crevices as her muscular but comforting body took over me completely. For months I begged my parents for a Boa Constrictor," she wanted a pet snake? Now Draco was so honoured to know this woman. " _I think you should become an expert with snakes_ , the keeper joked. _That snake would quite happily go home with you_. I mumbled something like: _I do not think dad would like that_." A warm sigh escaped her lips. "I felt so loved wrapped up in that snake," with a blush Hermione said: "Even at that age I knew how sensual it was and," she fiddled her fingers in her lap, "I have had certain... fantasies... since."

It was only now Hermione heard nothing but ragged breathing coming from her hosts. Now she no longer knew who was a friend or an enemy. "What fantasies?" Astoria whispered finally.

"I really shouldn't be here," Hermione sighed about to stand up but Lucius pinned her to the chair firmly from behind her: "I have work..."

"I will explain you are not well," Draco said. "You're recent trauma should be a reason alone for you to be amongst company."

"Yes but I'm Hermione Granger," she sighed. "You know, the one who embarrassed you so much at school, why would you help me play truant?"

In three simple strides Draco had reached Hermione and knelt down on the floor taking her hands in his: "That has no meaning now," he whispered. "To me you are Hermione Granger; a woman in need of pampering, soothing, and spoiling," he kissed her fingers, "you are the woman who helped this blond prat see what an idiot he was," he leaned closer. "You are the one that I should have pursued regardless," here he reached up and pecked her lightly on the lips. "I owe you so much, Hermione. You have our infinite loyalty."

"Come on," Astoria finally took hold of Hermione's hands after her husband released it. Reluctantly, Lucius let his grip drop from her arms. "I will show you to a spare room you can use to freshen up and finish off that story."

As she walked out of the room with the flushing muggleborn in tow Astoria stopped and pecked Draco on the cheek. Then looked at Lucius. Oh this was perfect, Astoria sighed. Just one little flutter of his eyelids alone gave Lucius away. He was not helping Hermione for any other reason than he was inexplicably drawn to the Witch. Then her eyes flickered down to his groin. That has to hurt, she smirked, never mind. Now Astoria knew her task. This was going to be deliciously fun.

Once the door clicked shut Lucius turned to face his son. "That was... something..."

"She felt comfortable with a snake wrapped around her," Draco's eyes glinted mischievously. "Now that is something I would have loved to have overheard at school."

"We have to make her like snakes again," Lucius said. "Show her that they are wonderful creatures still. That the reputation they hold is unfair." Besides, Lucius thought as he slowly sat down in the chair she had just vacated gripping onto the arms, it was clear she truly did want to take Liana home with her. Over and over he went over the name Liana Hesta Malfoy. No. Liana Sabrina Malfoy. That almost worked. Liana Aleria Malfoy. Perfect. Closing his eyes, he smirked, as an image of Hermione Granger with a snake wrapped around her naked flesh, as the tongue kissed her skin. Oh hell, he quickly hurried a cloak over his groin. 68, Lucius, you're 68 and you act like a bloody teenager. "You were right, Draco," Lucius hissed trying ignore a pain in his loins. "The woman was hungover. She drank some cheap muggle brand. The entire bottle. I was never as bad as that, was I?"

"Six bottles."

"What?"

"That was how many I found in your bed one morning," Draco hated the memory. "Six empty bottles of Kell's Wine. Lying near your own vomit and other fluids. You were a wreck!"

"Surprised I am not dead."

"I suppose the difference is that the prat that she is upset over is still alive."

"Her heart died, Draco," Lucius said. "That which meant so much to her for the best part of her life... died."

"Bastard," Draco hissed. "If you had a change of heart when I was a child and raised me differently, would you have..."

"Allowed you and Miss Granger to become?"

Nodding Draco sat in the seat recently vacated by his wife. "I would have asked you to have been cautious but, yes, I probably would have."

"I wonder why she stopped at the word 'before' three times?

"I hate an unfinished story."

"Something muggle she feels we would not understand?"

"No, Draco, whatever it is..." Lucius sighed, "it frightened her more than the war did."

Upstairs, in a room grand enough for Prince William to call a Penthouse, sat two Witches of different backgrounds. One Animatedly talking on a four poster bed, the other trying to keep her head together. Candelabras dotted around the room offered all the light Hermione could cope with as the flames flickered, playing with a chandelier hanging on the ceiling. Casting rainbows around the walls. The curtains were closed as Hermione complained that the sun hurt her eyes. The pale lilac walls were all the details of the room Hermione could see before she winced.

One peach silk covered brunette comforting another more shame-faced and hungover one wearing the smart grey robes that she had the day before. Now crumpled. Astoria would have them destroyed. Someone had to make Hermione look as she should. For Hermione had much more elegance than she was allowed to have. "You could move," Astoria said: Here, she thought, plenty of room. Stroking Hermione's hair away from her face, "surely you have money to buy another home?"

"A flat, not a home," Hermione sniffed turning her face away from Astoria's kind eyes, "It would have to be London and I have absolutely not enough for that."

"What did you get in the divorce?"

"Nothing much," Hermione said. "Clothes," she sighed. "Jewellery but they are tied up in other legalities," shrugging her shoulders, Hermione offered a wry smile: "I guess I did not choose the right lawyer," then her lower lip trembled. "The assets are split in half."

"Alimony?"

"Yes, but it would not be enough for me to buy somewhere magical."

"You really want to live somewhere magical?"

"This is my world, my home. I can't go back to the muggle world. Especially not..."

"Not what?"

"It doesn't matter," Hermione mumbled staring down into her lap twiddling her thumbs. "I just wish I could have either been one thing or the other. I never thought I would say this but I hate me. I _hate_ being a Mudblood..." Hermione found a hard sharp stinging slap land on her jaw. "Astoria...?"

"That word is no longer said in this house," Astoria hissed. "We are friends."

"I thought we were kind to each other due to the war but I did not think you'd want some galumphing know-it-all oaf to clutter up the place."

"Firstly:" Astoria rolled her eyes, "you are not galumphing," she took Hermione's jaw firmly between her fingers of one soft hand, "secondly:" she sighed, "you no longer know-it-all as we are not in school any more," Astoria leaned over and kissed her cheek: "thirdly," she sighed, touching her forehead to Hermione's and smiled. "Friends are not clutter." Fourthly: she smiled, Lucius Malfoy fancies the knickers off you and I want to get you two together because you'd make one hot scandalously delicious couple. "You are smart, beautiful – you never reached your full potential," here, rather shocking Hermione, Astoria kissed her on the lips like they were sisters. "Allow me to be your friend, confide in me. I can make you glow!"

"You would have made a good Gryffindor," Hermione said to Astoria. Meeting Astoria's sceptical smile with an awkward one of her own; Hermione lowered her eyes: "you would," she sighed.

"Have you been offered a hand of friendship?"

"Harry wants me to talk to him but what do I say?" Hermione sprang up and started pacing around. "I am sure he is hurting just as bad in a way Ron betrayed him too."

"He has lost his childhood completely with your divorce," Astoria worked out, "but why do you hold back from him?"

"When we were at school, if Ron and I fell out, he always took Ron's side." Hermione replied, "It always made me remember..." Astoria sensed Hermione was holding unlocked doors in her mind. So firmly shut tight that the most powerful _legilimens_ could not open them.

If she did not order Hermione to stay here then the Witch would Floo back to the office. "You are staying here," Hermione was about to object but Astoria held a hand up: "We insist!" All three would, Hermione scowled. Grinning Astoria took hold of Hermione's biceps she gazed into the ex-Gryffindor's eyes. "You need friends, you need comfort. This has a heated swimming pool. A Library that would take you decades to read through." The longer Hermione was here, the more she would see of Lucius, and propinquity would soon take effect. The moment that Astoria observed how Lucius was behaving around Hermione was the second it took to make her mind up. Cunning and trickery were part and parcel of being a Slytherin. Romantic intrigues were sometimes just as fun as working out how to steal from a fellow pupil. "I know you are going to hate this," Hermione narrowed her eyes, "but I have house elves."

"Would not have expected otherwise," Hermione sighed, "why would I hate that?"

"I seem to remember a certain campaign you had?"

"Oh _that_ ," Hermione blushed waving her hand, "thirty years ago. There are times when they are invaluable," with a small derisive laugh, Hermione looked at Astoria: "I am surprised I did not end up dead before the third year."

Ignoring the last dry remark Astoria continued on unflappable in demeanour. Clicking her fingers, without even uttering a name, a House Elf appeared in the room: "Gerda," Astoria introduced the house elf: "Miss Hermione Granger."

"Hello, Miss Gwanger."

"Hello, Gerda," to Hermione's surprise Gerda was wearing a pretty cotton flower dress. "Nice dress."

"Mistress says I can make clothes out of old bitsies of cloth, Miss."

What? Malfoys allowing House Elves some worth? Since when? "I find it is a compromise," Astoria sighed. "It's not exactly giving them clothes but they have more dignity."

"It's a payment," Hermione sighed. She would kiss the person who brought about this change. "But how..."

"Lucius," Astoria said. Kissing Lucius Malfoy was not a good idea, maybe a thank you hug. "Seemed after Azkaban he realised what it must be like for them," Hermione raised an eyebrow. "After the war was won," she smiled. "Lucius ordered any elf in his employ to make their own clothes."

Collapsing on the floor in tears, Hermione was level to Gerda. Shaking visibly with unspent emotions: "Oh Dobby," she sobbed. "Dobby!"

"You are to draw a bath for Miss Granger," Astoria turned to Gerda, "and find suitable clothing," softly, Astoria approached Hermione and lifted her up by the wrists gently, and led her back to the bed. "Charm them to fit, please. Make her look worthy."

"Gerda is pweased to be serving Miss Hermione Gwanger. Miss Hermione Gwanger is kinds, so Gerda hears from Mistress."

Hermione swung confused glances between Gerda and Astoria. "What do you mean, suitable clothing?"

"Ah, ah, ah," Astoria said.

Hermione sank down on the bed and shook her head. She felt like she was writing Pavlov's Diary in her head: _Day Two: Found drunk. Lord of the Manor dragged me to his home. Now under the scheming machinations of the Malfoy clan. Put my own paw on bell!_ "Miss, yous should be taking your socksies and shoesies off."

"I will," Hermione said, "when alone."

"Why alone?" Astoria asked puzzled. "They are just feet, Hermione."

"I don't like people seeing my feet," Hermione muttered.

"Oh, don't be silly," Astoria said, "come on, allow Gerda to take your socks and shoes off."

" _Alone_ , Astoria!" Hermione said dangerously.

"You are the guest," Astoria smiled as she rose from the bed. Soon to be Mrs Malfoy, if I have any say in it.

The Mistress beckoned Gerda out of the door. Once in the hall she bent down and asked the elf to tell her what was bothering Hermione about her feet.

When Gerda walked in she found Mistress' friend had removed said footgear and her elf eyes enlarged, shining with tears as her ears sunk down the way a dog does when it senses true agony in it's owner. "What happened to Miss Hermione Gwanger's tootsies?"

"I was set alight too as a child," Hermione tried to sound light and airy. "Had sharp objects poked into me," she sighed, "that toe there," she pointed to the second toe in on her right foot, "one particularly cruel kid tried to break the toe," examining her foot Hermione sighed. "The skin never quite recovered and I found it hard to walk for 6 months."

"That looks ouchsies," Gerda rubbed her fingers over the scars on the soles of her feet. "Did you bleed?"

"It _was_ ouchsies, and yes. Profusely," Hermione laughed bitterly. "That is what you get when you are a muggleborn having to go to a muggle primary school and have muggle children making fun of you, because you are doing things they do not understand," Hell I did not understand it. She felt the elf on her feet stroking them laying her cheek on them. Tears squeezed out of eyes as if they could fix the scars. "It's all right, Gerda," Hermione said softly, stroking the elf's head, "I recovered."

"Was it weally ouchsies?"

"Very ouchsies."

"What happened to the wicked children who hurted Miss Hermione Gwanger?"

"Nothing."

"I could findsy them and ouchsy them in return."

"They probably do not even remember Geeky Freaky."

"What is Geeky Fweaky?"

"My nickname before I became an Insufferable Know-It-All."

"Now I have seen everything," a smooth voice oozed in. Hermione did not even have to look to see the presence of the portrait to know who had spoken. He was part of her Fantasies at one time. In some ways, he still was. "A muggleborn staying the best guest bedchamber at Malfoy Manor... Friends with the Malfoy's now?"

"Professor Snape!" Hermione said. Scrambling her feet underneath her legs to hide them from view but it was too late. The portrait glowered at the puckered flesh decorating her toes. Tiny scars led up to the bridge of her foot. If he could see the soles he would have seen worse scars caused by sharp items being pressed in as the... No, she could not bring herself to remember. She had spent the best part of her life blocking out the sheer panic she felt on that awful day. "Astoria said that was an old Hogwart's Headmaster but I thought she was referring to Sirius' ancestor."

"No, it is I."

"Why are you here?"

"I heard of your recent situation," Severus sighed, "but you have not answered my question."

"I thought were just acquaintances – sort of civil. I have been kissed by Draco, Astoria and Lucius can't keep his hands off me."

"If I know them all," Professor Snape chuckled, "they will be wanting to keep you now."

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"I have heard Astoria and Draco planning to set Lucius up for some time now, even Scorpius has been asked to scout students for single mothers to set him up with."

"And my divorce has made me the intended victim?" Hermione said sourly.

"I would not think of it like that," Severus smirked, "Has Lucius been kind to you?" She nodded. "Wants to look after you?" another affirmative head movement. "Well then, it proves my point all along."

"What point?"

"Mr Weasley was the most blundering of dunderheads I ever had the misfortune to lay my eyes on."

Hermione laughed, "Who is the dunderhead?" Snape widened his eyes, "the dunderhead who betrayed the marriage bed or the dunderhead who married him in the first place?"

Something akin to a smile graced Snape's features: "Obi Wan Kenobi, if memory serves."

"You seen Star Wars?"

"The first one," he sighed. "I suppose you've got them all memorised off by heart?"

"Used to," Hermione shook her head. "I believe they made more."

"You should have said something," Professor Snape sighed as he took a look at her damaged skin. "I would have salved the area."

"Why, I thought you would have seen no difference!" Hermione snapped. "You are not the only one with an elephantine memory around here."

"I had to behave like that, Miss Granger," Snape said. "There were many a time I wished to behave differently."

"I do understand," Hermione sighed, "For what it's worth, I never doubted you." If she was looking she would have seen a look of genuine shock on his face. "Salving would not have ironed the wrinkles," she sighed. "Nothing would."

"What happened, if I may ask?"

"It is a long story," Hermione said standing up, "and there are two blood Malfoy's and one married one down there. I doubt they would like to be kept waiting."

"You were not a dunderhead," Snape said to her. "In fact there were times when I wished you were in my year."

"Considering I was born when you left that would have been awfully difficult."

"Yes," Snape conceded, "not impossible."

"What?"

"More powerful time turners exist than the trinket you used in your third year, Miss Granger."

"Just call me insufferable know-it-all," Hermione said. She refused to undress in front of Snape, even if it were a portrait. It could still speak and react. "I have had too many Slytherin's be nice to me and it is not even 10am."

"Why should we not be nice to you?" Snape's eyes narrowed. If she was going to say that word he would find a way to throttle her. He did not know how. But he would. Perhaps he could do it by proxy. "If memory serves the war no longer exists."

"It will exist as long as our generation is alive," Hermione said. "Gerda," she looked down at the elf. "Best have my bath now."

"Yes Miss Hermione Gwanger. Gerda is getting yous all scwubbed cwean and good for Master Lucius Malfoy."

"Gerda, I am not here to look good for Master Lucius Malfoy," Hermione sighed. "I am here because Master Lucius Malfoy practically dragged me here without me having a say in it." Here she heard a deep throated chuckle from Professor Snape's portrait: "What is so funny, sir?"

"Let me guess, you felt as if your arm was going to disconnect itself from its shoulder."

"Yes."

"Oh Lucius, 68 and you still do the same thing."

"What do you mean by that?"

Silently, Professor Snape slipped out of his portrait and back to the Hogwarts Headmasters and Mistresses office: "Really Severus," the ancestor of the once great and noble house of Black sneered. A house decimated and gone with the death of the last male heirs. Where did Purity get them? "Potter, I can just about tolerate. But that Mudblood bitch?"

"You have more in common with your dunderheaded descendant than you realise," Snape said back, "both of you are irksome company liable to irritate me."

"Oh yes, and what are you going to do about it?"

"I could take residence in your portrait," Snape's leer was crystal clear, "and drag you everywhere with me."

"So how is the wench?"

"Do you dare to call Hermione Granger a wench!" Snape seethed back. Not for the last time he wished he was alive. He was not ready to die. Why could he not be a ghost? At least you could frighten people... And teach. "If the Illustrious House of the Malfoy's can overlook their inbred idyll then so should you, how are _your_ heirs?" he sneered. That shut him up!

"I tell you, Draco," Astoria dipped her bread in her yolk. "Hermione is holding back."

"She never holds back."

"She is now," Astoria flashed a charming smile to her father-in-law, "do you think you could charm the secret out of her."

"If you were any kind of Malfoy," Lucius tilted his head with a smirk that Draco thought he would never see again. "You would have realised that house elves are there to act as spies as well as staff."

"Yes, I did," Astoria sighed, "I thought that some of that famous Malfoy _persuasion_ would be in order." You are going to eventually, you may as well get it over with now. You like her! I know she'd not exactly say no to you.

"Hey, why can I not do it?" Pouted Draco, he wanted to have a role in helping Hermione. Even though she did punch him in the face with a book once. Mind you, he knew now – that it was utterly deserved. "She does talk to me you know."

"Remember what I said to you if you betrayed me, dearest?"

Wincing, Draco understood now what his wife meant by _persuasion_. "You know, you really could, Father," oh he definitely could. It almost made Draco wished he waited for Weasel to make this mistake so he could have swooped in himself.

"Stop it you two," Lucius sighed. He was still aching for his wife. As lovely as Hermione is, I am not going to replace Narcissa so soon. "I am going to help her in her case at law and nothing else. Besides," he shifted in his seat. Jaw set straight, lips thinned and eyes hardened: "Theodore Nott is after her. He is more her age. Seems keen on her."

"Please tell me," Astoria stiffened also at this news, "Hermione Granger, did not sleep with Theodore Nott?"

"It would appear they did," Lucius sighed. Did he hear Astoria mutter something nasty about Theodore? Didn't matter, he wanted the subject dropped immediately. "I do not wish to make a fool of myself over her. I chose a side before," he sighed. "Now," Lucius picked up a slice of toast and started to butter it, "I am sure there are other things to discuss."

POP! announced the arrival of Gerda. Sobbing. Angry. Scowling. Looking to burn vengeance on something. All three turned to the dangerously explosive temperament of this little creature. "I's sorry," Gerda said. "But Mistress asked Gerda why Miss Hermione Gwanger did not want Mistress to see her toesies?"

"I did," Astoria said turning around to face the elf, "what is the problem?"

"Its not nice," Gerda said. "I's not happy. I's want to hurtsy people."

"We will see," Astoria faced her elf squarely in the eyes. "Why do you want to hurt people? What people?"

"Muggles Mistress."

Exchanging a smirk between them Draco and Lucius shook their heads: "We cannot allow you to do that, Gerda," Astoria said. "Why do you want to hurt muggles?"

"Not _all_ muggles, Mistress. _Some_ muggles."

"Gerda, tell me, why was Hermione so precious about her feet?"

"I is not sure the men should hear."

"Gerda," Astoria said slowly, "she will need you soon. You must tell us. We like Hermione."

"I bet she's got chipped varnish or something," Draco muttered. "Some people have odd quirks like that."

"You do not feel comfortable unless there is a tub of Lock-In on your hair, Draco," Astoria smiled sweetly. "This is about something more than chipped nail varnish."

Scrunching her little dress in her hands Gerda looked as if she was going to cry, scream and curse at the same time: "Miss Hermione's Gwanger's footsies are all ouchsies."

"Why?"

"Muggles thought it fun to burn Miss Hermione's Gwanger's toesies," seethed Gerda, "then muggles thought it fun to pokes sharps things in footsies," the elf glared at Lucius, "muggles thought it fun to twy and breaks tootsies!"

Grinding his teeth Lucius scrunched his hand into a napkin staring straight at the wall ahead of him. "Gerda angwy, Gerda wants Miss Hermione Gwanger avenged." Gerda tried to remember how Miss Hermione Granger put it: "All because Miss Hermione Gwanger muggleborn going to muggle pwimawy school and doing things they did not understand, Mistress, does not mean Muggles should gets away with it. Miss Hermione Gwanger could not walk for nearly a year."

Lucius eyes turned dark. Draco knew that look. Hell, someone is going to be in for it. "Excuse me," Lucius snarled eventually. Silently, he withdrew his chair. Nodded to Astoria stiffly. Smoothing down his casual black tunic, "thank you, Gerda," his voice holding onto his anger. "You are to keep Hermione content, comfortable. Offer her _anything_ she desires," he said. Without another word he took off to another room.

"Where is Master Lucius Malfoy going Mistress?"

"I have no idea, Gerda," Astoria sighed. "Draco?"

"I am at the same loss as you."

"Was it my faults, Mistress."

"No, it was not your fault, Gerda. You did well."

"What does Mistress want Miss Hermione Gwanger to wear?"

"That old robe set I wore the other day. The champagne robe and the butter yellow dress," Astoria tilted her head. "Find some adornment and make her up," she finished her breakfast, "I will try and find a potion or spell that could be used to smooth over the skin."

"That was brand new the other day!" Draco exclaimed. "What is wrong with something you wore last year?"

"They have all been donated, dear."

Draco choked on his coffee: "It makes me wonder why I bother buying you these things."

"Not in front of the servants, Draco," Astoria sighed. "Burning her feet, poking things into them. Trying to break her toes. That was extreme for muggles today."

"We really _are_ going to have to apologise truly to her."

" _We_ , dear?"

" _I_ am really going to have say sorry to her."

"Better," Astoria tapped her elegant nails on the table. "Oh well," she sighed. "I suppose I had best think of ways to cheer Hermione up."

"Oh just shove her in our library," Draco said, "she will love it there – you probably won't even know she's here."

"I am going to pretend I did not hear that," Astoria said, "a girls trip out."

"You had one of those the same day you bought the robes you want Hermione to wear."

"I've worn those robes, why should I wear them again?"

May as well give up, Draco thought, you cannot win when she uses that question. "Do you think that is what she meant by... Before?" change tack before you get jinxed.

"What do you mean?"

"Three times she hesitated after the word: Before..."

"Could be, though what led to it?"

"What indeed," Draco said, "I believe I heard some rumour about her setting Professor Snape's robes on fire once."

"Does the rumour give a guess as to why?"

"I don't know, perhaps she hated him that much," Draco said. "I have to work to keep you to the style you have become accustomed," he smoothed down his mulberry tunic. "Goodbye, try and weedle out more information."

"How?"

"You're a Slytherin," Draco said. "Think of your own intrigue."

"I do not think that is going to go down well."

"How do you get recipes out of Mrs Potter?"

"I do enjoy her food."

"Yes, she has an excellent palate," Draco agreed. "I ask again, how?"

"Well, I compliment her. I speak warmly to her. I ask what is that flavour, what is that nuance. Flippancy comes in handy, especially when it comes to asking: How much of this, that and the other."

"She _falls_ for that?"

"Ego comes to the fore, eventually she cannot help but cave in."

"I have something to tell you," Draco sighed. "Harry invited us over for dinner this weekend."

"I hope you accepted."

"I did," Draco said.

"Excellent, would it not be amazingly amusing if we came with your father and Hermione," Ginny always cooked an excessive amount this soon after school started. "Hermione would have to look the best of course."

"Something tells me you and my father are going to turn her into your shared pet."

"Not quite," Astoria said, "we will show the world exactly what an idiot that Weasley is!"

"I suppose it is no use arguing with you?"

"None," Astoria sighed, "I do hope Lucius returns soon. Hermione will be furious if she thinks he has abandoned her here."

"You are a silver tongued serpent, my sweet, cool her down with calming words."

"Work hard," Astoria said as she watched her husband vanish into the Floo. Now, she sighed, how to matchmake one stubborn Gryffindor with one irascible Slytherin... simple, she smirked. With telling Hermione that the Malfoy elves were allowed to dress themselves, even if they had to work to make the clothes: was a start. Now, what other ways... find out her causes. Her new fights. Her passions. Convey them to Lucius in private moments. If Lucius really was serious about his declaration that he is ready to hand her over to Nott that could easily be dealt with. If Nott asks her out again, have Hermione accept him.

That was Hermione sorted out. Extolling Lucius virtues would be tougher, Astoria had to admit with a heavy sigh, especially to one who had suffered at his hands in this very house. Devoted to his grandchild that was true but that would remind Hermione that his grandchild and her daughter were in the same year of school. Not a way to help them see beyond that boundary. There was nothing for it. Hermione would have to do the majority of the work under Astoria's guidance. Then again, the cloak and dagger nature of Lucius Malfoy would make certain that, once either realises what is up, they would be too busy rocking bed posts to care!

"Would you like another cup, dear?" Molly asked her husband. Their home was no longer called the Burrow. Torn down, rebuilt, remodelled after the war – it was now a comfortably warm, inviting bungalow cottage. Phoenix Farm was now the name of their home. "It looks to be a lovely day, dear."

Staring vacantly in the air Arthur sighed: "No, I'm fine."

"What happened last night?"

Lucius Malfoy, that's what. Standing at our daughter's home like he owned it. Threatening to jinx me. "Nothing," he muttered.

"You're moody," Molly said. Normally Arthur was smiling. Laughing over a joke only he could hear. Now she was gazing into the face of a man who was tersely pursing his lips and looked – scary! "Something happened."

Blankly, Arthur turned to his wife. Did not even melt under her worried gaze: "Don't you miss the war?"

"No," Molly said, and meant it. "I hated it."

"Just that, there is something boring about life lately."

"I welcome the boredom," Molly said. What the war did to her family. Both times, she shuddered. It was odd that her husband wanted another war. "If there were another war, goodness, I do not think we'd be asked to fight."

Suddenly their cottage kitchen lit up with green light. Without the chance to find out who had interrupted their breakfast Arthur found himself being thrust hard against the nearest wall by a blazing mad blond Wizard snarling in his face: "You had her in your care!" he growled slowly. Steel grey eyes turned to thunder. "You had time to find out about her!" his voice deepened to growl. Mirroring the thunder in his eyes. The intruder slammed Arthur so hard his eyes rolled inside his head. "You were supposed to be her friend!" he shouted. Soon, Arthur found himself being flung against the kitchen table, scattering plates. Effectively destroying their meal. "YOU," bang, "SHOULD," thud, "HAVE!"

Turquoise sparks shattered in the air and the man looked up to a definitely improved Molly. Eyes afire and mouth set thin. "You remember what I did to Bellatrix I can easily do to you, Lucius Malfoy, if you do not release my husband from your grip and tell us what you are so angry about!"

Slowly, Lucius slid down and let go of Arthur's throat. No power on Earth was going to gainsay Molly Weasley. Least of all Lucius Malfoy. "I'm sorry," he snarled down at Arthur, in a manner that was begrudgingly truthful. Standing up Arthur raised his hands to his sore throat. Completely shocked that he had been attacked in his own home for no reason whatsoever.

"I will see you in Azkaban for that."

"Arthur!" Molly snapped. "Shut up and let me do the talking."

"I was the one that was attacked without provocation."

"Lucius," Molly pointed her wand at the man's jugular, "sit!" she whisked her wand and the chair moved allowing enough room for Lucius to sit down. The moment Molly saw how broken the man was inside her heart went out to him. Whomever he was defending, she was of their acquaintance, and one he cared about. "Sit down, Lucius Malfoy!"

Stunned Lucius obeyed Molly's command. We really did focus on the wrong people, he thought to himself. Then again Molly always did have an element of the serpent about her. Those children had to keep her mind sharp. Wary of their next, rebellious childish schemes. "Molly," Lucius tipped his head regaining his charming countenance. "I would never disobey you."

"Right," she straightened her newish purple and silver robes, and sat down next to him. "What was this about?"

"Did Mrs... Miss Granger, ever talk of her pre-Hogwarts days to you?"

"No," Molly sighed. It was something they had been trying to do for years "Arthur did try to prise open information from her past, but she was not very forthcoming."

"Why should you care about Hermione's pre-Hogwarts days?" Arthur scowled suddenly suspicious. "She's a muggleborn remember."

"I am well aware of her heritage, you oaf."

"Lucius..." Molly trained her wand on Lucius jugular, eyes turned flint hard, prepared to hex him senseless, if he did not behave. Lucius wanted to live. Gods, Molly, Lucius gazed into her earnest eyes, I miss you. "I'm warning you."

"I have taken her to my Manor..."

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HER!" Arthur roared interrupting Lucius before the blond could explain himself, jumping out of his seat in a rash act that could have cost Arthur a trip to Azkaban. "I SWEAR, MALFOY, ONE TOUCH ON HER HEAD..."

"LOOKING AFTER HER!" Lucius roared, flushing with indignant anger, "WHICH IS A DAMNED SIGHT MORE THAN WHAT YOU CLEARLY HAVE DONE!"

"Sit. Down." Molly said slowly.

Just as slowly, Lucius sat back down as did a doubting Arthur: "Again, I apologise," he simpered to Molly. "My wonderful daughter-in-law, Astoria, got her own private house elf to convey why Miss Granger would not take her shoes and socks off in front of her."

"Probably wanted to protect herself."

Rolling his eyes Lucius fingers were twitching to his cane. If only he could have just talked to Molly. That would have been the ideal tête-à-tête situation.

"Arthur!"

"Sorry, love."

"Gerda, Astoria's elf, was angry – I could not believe my ears."

"Get on with it!"

"Arthur!"

Cowed by his wife, Arthur shrank into his seat. "Yes dear."

"Carry on, Lucius."

"The muggle children at her – what do they call schools for their pre-teen youths?"

"Primary schools," Arthur answered. "I think they're a good idea actually."

"When Miss Granger was at Primary School," the words did not roll off Lucius tongue the same way as they did Arthur's. "The insolent youths had such base effrontery to burn her feet – she still bares scars," he looked up into the tight lipped Molly Weasley who also looked like she wanted to murder someone. "They must be terrible because Gerda wanted our permission to find the muggles that did it and kill them for it."

Molly's eyes practically became obsidian in their anger: "My son said something about Hermione being shy about her feet," she recalled, "but that sounds terrible for her. Did you get the full story."

"No, but I know Astoria is working out how."

"Why did you see fit to attack my husband?"

"Because he is the muggle loving hippy around here."

"Why does it matter to you anyhow?" Molly asked, narrowing her eyes, placing a hand on his knee. "Arthur has a point," Molly sighed, "why should you care about what happens to Her..." she stopped as light dawned in her eyes. Broken. Angry. Defensive. Vengeful. Lucius Malfoy had, for some reason, in a short space of time, come to care for Hermione. Why? "Scrap that," she sighed, "Lucius, you can't just enter this residence and attack unprovoked. What did you expect to get out from it?"

"Some kind of satisfaction long since overdue," Lucius was not sure why he was here if he was being truthful. The moment he heard he saw red. More accurately, he saw a red headed buffoon with glasses. "I was wondering if you could ask her parents."

This was met by stunned silence. The couple gazed hard at each other. "Well." Arthur puffed out and clapped his hands underneath the table.

"You see, Lucius," Molly tried to be as tactful about this as possible. "The war damaged all of us. Muggleborn children had to find ways to protect their non magical relatives. Hermione was no exception."

Tears entered his voice. Like Draco, Hermione had to make her own dark choices, what was her sacrifice? "What did she have to do?"

"Obliviate," Molly sighed making sure she was not holding her wand. This was met by an angry growl of frustration from Lucius. Why did she not say anything? No wonder she wanted to drown her sorrows. "They are in Australia," Molly said stroking Lucius knee now in an effort to calm him down, "retired, enjoying the sun and a new life but..."

"They have no memory of ever having a daughter?" Lucius snarled, spittle was falling from his lips. "We were bastards weren't we," tears strolled down his cheeks, Molly remembered how she once found him crying when they were younger. Before Arthur. Before Narcissa. Before YOU-KNOW-WHO! "Sacrificed her parents and still saved my sons life?"

"Your son was not the Dark Lord, Lucius," Molly sighed being as gentle as she could. A man was learning compassion at a late time in life. The words, no matter how right they were, said wrongly could tip him off the edge: "It was Hermione's decision to make."

"Why did she not reverse it after?"

"You and I both know that is easier said than done. Sometimes," Molly looked at the ceiling and counted to twenty under her breath, "the Australian Ministry of Magic sends her letters of how they are doing but she can never see them again."

Rubbing his hands over his face Lucius gazed at Molly's kind eyes: "I sometimes wish you were the one that had not got away."

This was the first time either said that to the other. The first time in fifty years Lucius and Molly spoke of their past that only one other person knew: "It would never have been a companionable union, Lucius, you know that."

"Yes," his eyes twinkled. Almost, it brought them both back to that time. How they had sneak out and try and hide in crevices. Not get detentions. The odd little snatch of forbidden passion. A small part of Lucius wanted to grab Molly and kiss her so passionately, one last kiss, but he dared not. Not that he was scared of Arthur. Molly would probably hit him with jelly legs. "We had fun though," he winked. Blushing Molly lowered her eyes and realised her hand was a little further up Lucius thigh. Immediately, she withdrew her hand, "did we not?"

Arthur coughed: "Leave it."

"When did she wipe her parent's memories?"

"Just before my eldest son's wedding," Molly sighed.

"I cannot begin to imagine what it would have done to Draco had he had to have made a similar choice."

"He was forced to make a worse one."

"Yes, oh Molly, what can we do for Hermione?"

"Why is it so important to you all of a sudden, Malfoy?" bringing up his wife's past was not endearing Lucius any more to Arthur, "you tried to kill her!"

"A life time ago," Lucius said. "You have no idea how grateful I am that I failed."

"Tell me," Molly said tenderly.

"I think that there is nothing to say," Lucius said. "Nothing can happen anyway. Sorry for disturbing your breakfast," with that he got up, grabbed the Floo powder and got back to his Manor.

Leaving an elderly red haired couple blinking at each other. "Well," Molly said, getting up tidying the seats and eating the rest of her breakfast that was not smashed into broken crockery and smudged on the floor, "you had a taste of the War again just like you wished."

"Why did he take it out on me? What could I have done? We did not even know about her when that happened!"

"Doesn't matter to a man who clearly is beginning to learn how to love, again."

"What do you mean, again?"

"Ginny Owled me earlier," Molly said biting into her toast. "He finally admitted to giving her that book last night and he apologised for it too. She said that he said that he had time to think over his past and," here Molly took a sip of tea, "that he wants to help Hermione with gaining full custody."

"What for, we can do that!"

"No, Arthur, we can't," Molly said. "We just can't!"

"BLOODY HELLFIRE!" Harry yelled. His phone vibrated with a message which he opened promptly. The message elicited this shocking cry. Why? Why now when Ginny had told him some really excellent news. "This is not good!"

"What?" Ginny blinked.

"Dudley."

"What about him?"

Silently, Harry, with trembling hands; turned the phone around and showed Ginny the link that Dudley sent. Scrolling down revealing name after name of his friends, people he heard about, ones he loved. Some extremely personal. With the message: " _Harry, I think you should see this. Mum said you might be able to do something about it. Just know I am on your side whatever happens. I meant it when I said I did not think you were a waste of space._ **Piers** _ **,**_ _on the other hand, well see for yourself!_ "

Somewhere, in the UK, a man was sitting on his sofa remembering his own past. How a child his age once humiliated him in front of the whole school. He was looking through his Facebook page finding others of like minds to join him in his own quest for revenge.

The words: Geeky Freaky were startling in their white cold font. There were several thousand hits, likes, shares and post. Most posts were shared around the UK – men and women country wide had their own strange tales to tell. Wanted their own piece of revenge. One, a most ardent supporter, was called Piers Polkiss. Even children as young as 13 were putting videos up of the time when they caught one of their playmates doing something... strange.

One name that Piers mentioned over and over was of a weird, little kid with unruly black hair. Cheap glasses. A boy with a lightning bolt as a scar on his forehead. A boy that could talk to snakes. The name Harry Potter was becoming just as famous in the muggle world as it was in the Wizarding world but the one that really took momentum... the one that many children recounted from his old school was: Hermione Granger.

Though hers was not the only one: Lily Evans. (Red haired bitch turned my nose purple!) Justin Finch-Fletchly (posh prat made my bag of sweets fly through the air!) some weirdo's named Creevey's (milk had sometimes gone sour with no reason). Dean Thomas (black creep turned my pen to elastic). Remus Lupin (sure I heard this weirdo howling). Seamus Finnegan (Irish, whaddya expect, turned my sister's bicycle wheels into two four leaved clovers before exploding her eyebrows!). Severus Snape: (Hung around with that Evan's bitch, they say like attracts like!) amongst others. One, sent shivers down the man's back though he did not understand why, heard from dark whispers from grandparents, was Tom Riddle (he stole, tripped, trapped, hurt, and lashed without actually touching anyone, like the Potter kid, he could talk to snakes).

Any Wizard or Witch with a muggle background had strange stories attached to them. But the one that meant most to this man was: Hermione Granger.

"This will show her," the man muttered. "I haven't forgotten you, _Geeky Freaky_ , and I know there are more of you. I will finish it this time. Finish the whole lot you!" Sitting back he rolled his sleeves up where a tattoo of the man he admired grinned insanely from his forearm. "This is in your name, Matthew Hopkins. You inspire me to end your work..."


End file.
